Something Borrowed
by it'slaterthanyouthink
Summary: The odds of Hermione falling through time? Slim. The chances of a young Severus Snape recognizing her? Minuscule. Join her as she attempts to discover her purpose in the past. Sirius/Hermione, Severus/Hermione
1. Chapter 1

Colin Creevey looked young. Lying in the bright green grass covered in morning dew he was tiny and if it weren't for his frozen state he would appear inconsequential as well. But he wasn't. His unmoving body that lied at an angle just awkward enough to rule slumber as a perpetrator out held all of the consequences of the last few hours. Hermione had a brief vision of the boys she used to watch play football out of her bedroom window as she read before she even knew Hogwarts existed. She'd thought them so grown up with their boisterous voices and secondary school uniforms, she wondered if they'd look as young as Colin if she could go back to that moment. Had the years made them look so young? Had her experiences proved that their brief lives were unfinished and full of potential? She shook her head to rid herself of her morbid thoughts, she couldn't dwell on the fallen. She needed to keep moving.

The sun was rising steadily, not that it could be seen. Hermione could only notice the mist that surrounded her grow even more white as the night stretched to morning. She could hardly make out the Great Lake which she knew to be a mere few paces in front of her. Soon however, the mist would rise, and the morning after would truly be here. The world's way of cementing yesterdays' events into history. Then it wouldn't be Hermione finding little Colin's body but maybe his father or mother who'd spent the day scouring the Scottish moors with hope in their hearts. She couldn't let that happen.

She had work to do.

Reaching up with her wand she shot a signalling charm through the air. McGonagall and Flitwick would find him now. They would know how to nurture this grief into something that would be bittersweet, rather than poisonous. Taking a step nearer to the boy that had entertained her to no end in second year with his excitement and adoration of Harry she dropped to her knees. Slowly she turned his pale face towards her, his bright blue eyes were dulled criminally and seemed to stare at nothing at all. With slow deliberate movements she closed his eyes. Shutting her own eyes in solidarity she sent a prayer to whoever might be listening that this young man's afterlife would be more peaceful then his end.

Standing sharply, she stalked away from the grewsome scene with her borrowed winter robes billowing in the cold winds behind her. She wondered across the grounds hugging the border of the Forbidden Forest in the pursuit of more of her fallen allies. She couldn't help but hope so fervently that Colin Creevey would be the last of her friends she'd have to discover this cold foggy morning. As predicted the mists were rising to reveal the grim day that seemed to permeate through her weariness even further. She sighed once more before leaning against the grooved wood of an old Willow tree and sliding slowly down until her elbows rested on her knees.

She'd have to get back to Ron soon, she'd left to help McGonagall but also to allow her friend to grieve for his lost brother. Was that even what he was anymore? A friend? Things had just spiralled out of control so fast tonight. She knew she was in love with Ron, there was no way she could deny the way she'd felt for Ron for the last few years, but the timing was just so _off._ They'd need to deal with everything that had happened before they even revisited that one desperate kiss they'd shared what felt like hours before.

The fog cleared a little more revealing the house that she'd never wanted to see again. The Shrieking Shack stood in all its glory with its flaking paint and ominous ambiance. It filled her heart with the anger she'd suppressed for the last few hours. Reaching for a stone resting near her hand she leapt to her feet and flung it with as much power as she could muster in the direction of the deserted house. It hit the slated roof harmlessly before dropping to the ground pathetically. Racing forward she targeted the rusted metal door banging her fists against the cold galvanised iron redundantly. When that proved fruitless she began to kick as hard as she could.

To any witnesses, the sudden savage behaviour of the young woman might seem shocking but in Hermione's mind the house deserved it. Something had to pay for all the pain, for all the hurt. She stopped only as her hands began to bloody, the red staining the metal more than her ineffectual fists ever could.

Reaching forward she pulled the latch of the door and walked into the dusty decrepit house. She wiped the tears from her face with her bloody fists harshly. She didn't deserve to cry, she was still alive. But once the angry tears began to fall she couldn't stop them. She was sure she looked a mess with bloody cheeks and wild hair, but she didn't care. She crept forward feeling numb from the outpour of aggression. Pausing at the end of the hallway she took a deep breath, she knew what was next if she turned this corner. With morbid sadism she didn't save herself the terrible sight for the second time.

Severus Snape was dead. That much was obvious, his blood had long since soaked into the aged wooden floors of the ancient house, never to be removed. With Colin there had been some semblance of the boy she'd once known, some reminder that at one point he had lived. Snape however, was well and truly absent. His dark eyes weren't staring out into the abyss, they were just empty. His body was completely destroyed by that terrible beast that had remained at the side of Tom Riddle until the very end.

Hermione couldn't help the gasp that she released at the scene, a few hours ago she'd supressed the sight and moved straight onto the next atrocity. Isolated however, there was nothing she could do but take in the brutal massacre. A hand flew to her mouth to silence her harsh breathing, she felt like she was disturbing the scene, and if there was anything that Snape never appreciated it was a disturbance.

…

Hermione opened her eyes hesitantly. Her head was pounding harshly, and it took her a few moments to take in her surroundings. A bright light steamed over her face forcing her to lift her arm to block out the affront to her senses. Huffing uncomfortably at how heavy her limb felt at the movement she tried to push herself up in the bed she was stretched out in. She'd recognise these bed sheets anywhere, the hospital wing. But once the light was blocked out she took notice of the differences. There was only one bed in the room and the windows seemed more modern. A steady beeping distracted her from her attempt at rising and she turned her head to her side only to see a muggle heart monitoring machine. Following the leads, she belatedly noticed the device covering her fingers and the drip that attached to the top of her hand.

A thousand ideas flew threw Hermione's head before she settled on the conclusion that she had been admitted to St Mongos. When they'd started using muggle equipment Hermione didn't know, but that was the only answer to her current predicament. Looking down once more she pulled the paper nightgown up over her arms until she noticed the white bandages that covered the patch of her right arm that Bellatrix had taken her creative liberties with.

"Oh Merlin," Hermione hissed, as she pulled herself up further, straining the needle connected to her line. For the first time her eyes wondered towards the door of the hospital room, a little window at the top of the door showed a few people walking past hurriedly.

Suddenly the door opened and before Hermione had the chance to feign sleep a heavy-set nurse walked through the threshold purposefully, followed slowly by two tall broad men that seemed out of place with the environment.

"Oh, good love, you're awake," the nurse commented before hurrying towards her and pushing her back into the pillows gently. Hermione allowed herself to be guided by the woman who seemed to emanate a maternal vibe. She even allowed her to adjust the heart monitor on her finger but bristled noticeably when she reached for her bandaged arm.

"Excuse me," Hermione muttered firmly while pulling away, she coughed a few times to clear her throat.

"That's quite alright dear," the nurse muttered, not even attempting to disguise the pity in her eyes. Hermione turned her face away, she didn't deserve this compassion. Not when little Colin Creevey lied in the grass until the morning dew formed.

"Why am I here?" Hermione questioned, swiftly dispensing with the trivialities. She'd earned that mush at least. Something strange flickered across the older woman's face and she spared the two men in the room a glance before turning back to face Hermione.

"Can you tell us your name?" One of the men asked reaching for a little notebook in the inner pocked of his black jacket, the other man mimicked his actions slowly. Hermione couldn't help the surprise that overtook her in that moment.

"You don't know who I am?" Hermione interrogated in disbelief. It wasn't arrogance that fuelled her line of questioning but curiosity, it wasn't often that she met anyone who couldn't recognise Undesirable Number 2.

"I can't say I do Ma'am," he responded with a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. It seemed like he was afraid to startle her, as if she were unstable. Hermione allowed her eyes to take in her surroundings once more but with less clouded eyes. The men were both wearing suits that were undoubtedly muggle in origin. The nurse herself was wearing blue scrubs that differed completely from Mongo's style. Releasing a massive sigh, she belatedly considered the idea of a mix up. Without sparing the muggles another look, she reached down and unclipped the monitor and pulled the needle out callously.

"Miss!" The nurse exclaimed as she reached for Hermione, but she was too late. Hermione was already moving her feet to hang over the side of the bed. With a deep breath she stood hesitantly on her weak legs. When she didn't immediately fall she took a step forward only to lose her balance and stumble forward a little. Automatically one of the men caught her just before she hit the ground.

"Fuck," his gruff voice mumbled as he pulled her to stand. He was younger than his partner, maybe in his early twenties and had yet to speak in the brief interlude besides the muffled curse.

"Sorry," Hermione murmured as she shook his hands off as they tried to steady her. She was more than embarrassed, her cheeks flamed red at her clumsiness. "Where are my clothes?" She asked the nurse who seemed frozen by the hurried movements of her patient.

"Excuse me young lady, but you are in no condition to be moving around," she commanded once she had found her voice.

"My clothes?" Hermione demanded once more. She knew she was being brisker than was strictly necessary, but her mind was filled with thoughts of an irate Ron and Harry at her sudden disappearance. She couldn't even remember collapsing. The last thing she could recall was the Shrieking Shack.

"I'm sorry Miss-," the older man paused for her to reveal her name but when a few moments paused without her speaking he continued with a reluctant sigh. "But those clothes have been processed as evidence," he continued hesitantly, watching her reaction to the news carefully.

"Evidence of what exactly?" Hermione asked, annunciating each syllable deliberately so each occupant of the room would realise just how testy the situation was making her.

"Well we found you in a ditch pretty roughed up and to top it all off you had a message carved into your arm," the older man declared clearly losing patience with her irritation.

"Detective!" The nurse castigated as she tried to approach Hermione once more but paused at the fierce look that was sent in her direction.

"Now I'm sorry Miss but you're the first person _alive_ I've managed to find with that mark on their arms and my partner and I have travelled quite some distance to meet you. You're a great deal older than who we usually find so this is decidedly suspicious," the older detective continued fiercely.

 _So, Bellatrix had been up to her old tricks with the new muggleborns children._

The mere thought made Hermione nauseous. She suppressed her disgust in favour of solving the problem at hand.

"Was there anything with my clothes?" Hermione murmured, she gripped the metal edge of the bed firmly to balance herself.

"Nothing but scrap wood," the younger detective responded, perhaps feeling pity for her unsettled state. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief at the thought of her wand, wherever it was.

"I want my things," she muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"And I want to stop a child serial killer," the older detective responded succinctly. A moment passed where Hermione tried to gather her thoughts. Slowly she extended her left hand, her right was still bloody from when she'd removed the needle.

"Luna Potter," she introduced on a whim. Both detectives stared at her hand for a few moments before the younger reached out and gripped her hand gently.

"Detective Barrow and this here is Detective Rodgers," he explained with a wave of his free hand. She shook his hand firmly, trying to project the reputation she'd garnered over the last few months as a war hero, not a weak young girl.

"Now that the introductions are finished, why don't you head back to bed Luna you've-," the nurse tried to encourage but Hermione interrupted her once more, she didn't have time to be coddled. Not when all of her friends were probably on a wild goose chase trying to track her down.

"We get out of here and I'll answer your questions, in return you give me my things," Hermione bartered weakly.

"This is absurd-," the irate nurse attempted to interject.

"Deal," the older Detective muttered, finally extending his hand. His right hand hovered in the air confidently, forcing Hermione to shake with her bloodied hand.

…..

"So, Miss Potter, where do you live?" Detective Rodgers asked. They were sat in the Hospital Cafeteria which was filled with busy people bustling around. The brown package of Hermione's personal effects rested in the middle of the table, but that wasn't what had captured her attention.

"A little late for Christmas decorations," Hermione muttered as she examined the fibreoptic tree that stood in the middle of the otherwise plain room. Dread filled her heart at the sight of the harmless decoration. How long had she slept for? Why couldn't she remember how she'd ended up here?

"Christmas isn't for another week Love," Detective Barrows responded with a sympathetic look. Hermione froze, the battle had been in early May. How could she have slept so long?

"How old are you?" Detective Rodgers pressed on.

"I… I don't know," she responded completely thrown for a loop.

"Fifteen? Sixteen?" Barrows pressed curiously. She wasn't offended by the younger approximations, she knew that the war had made her skinny and meek looking.

"Well, what year were you born? Then minus it from seventy-seven," Rodgers pressed forward impatiently.

"Seventy-seven?" Hermione questioned dumbly.

"Well it's nearly the new year?" Barrows murmured, examining her reaction. Hermione's whole body froze at the turn of the conversation.

 _It wasn't possible_

She repeated the words over and over in her head, but she couldn't supress how everything was suddenly falling into place. Why Harry and Ron hadn't tracked her down yet, why the Christmas tree sat so proudly in the middle of the room and why the two men in front of her were dressed that little bit off from what she was used to. Her hand flew to her mouth in shook. Dispensing with any sense of decorum she snatched the package from the table and ran out of the busy cafeteria before the two men could even think of stopping her.

Ripping the package open as she raced forward and felt around for her wand, when her hand finally managed to clutch around the familiar piece of wood she heaved a massive sigh of relief. So consumed was she that she wasn't watching where she was going. She ran straight into a hard body that quickly wrapped his strong arms around her to immobilize her.

"Miss Potter, I think we might have to have a chat down at the station," Detective Barrows declared as he pulled her towards the door. Hermione contemplated using her wand to free herself, but she knew enough damage was being done to the timeline by her mere presence without exposing magic as well. Instead she fought to free her arms to no success. He was stronger and taller than her and she was still so weak from the battle. She slumped pathetically in his arms as he pushed her out the front door and forward into the cold morning air. Her paper nighty, thin nightgown and slippers were no match for chill and she shuddered involuntarily at the shook to her system.

The young Detective reached between them and opened his jacket so that she was shoved against his shirt instead. It was warmer, but she hadn't been held so restrictively since the snatchers had brought them to Malfoy manor. The memory hurt her already fried brain.

"Settle down," Barrows muttered soothingly as he led her to an unmarked car. She didn't have to look to know that Rogers was following behind them. She realised tardily that she had begun to struggle again at the contact and forced herself to stop. They were just doing their job, if more wizardry folk worried about the deaths of muggleborns like this perhaps she wouldn't be in this situation.

The drive to the station was mostly spent in silence. Luckily, they hadn't ripped the wand from her hand, but she still felt nervous using magic in a setting like this. Instead she squared her shoulder and vowed to begin to act like the mediator she'd always wanted to be, back when the ministry had held her respect.

"Where are we going?" She demanded from the backseat.

"We're set up in a little barracks in Cokeworth, it's where they found you," Barrows responded from the passenger seat. The location held no significance to Hermione, so she settled back and waited for the car to come to a stop. They seemed to be in the midlands of England from what she could make out. Finally, they pulled up outside a small building that was painted yellow and had the lighted symbol of the police at the door. The small symbol was the only way to differentiate the building from any normal house.

"You weren't kidding when you said small," Hermione muttered. She was beginning to feel more like herself, her confidence and logic returning to her.

Both Detectives left the car before coming to stand outside her door, she tried not to feel too put out by their actions. After all, she was a flight risk. She could hear their hushed conversation outside before Barrows opened the door hesitantly reaching for her uninjured arm and firmly gripped it. He gave her an apologetic smile, but Hermione knew that this was the agreement the two men had come to. She allowed herself to be dragged into the building tiredly applying minimal resistance.

She was sat next to heater in the main bull pin of the office space, she could tell that the local police were curious at her appearance but weren't commenting so the detectives must have some respect around here.

"Keep the front door locked," Rodgers called as he flicked the door locked and withdrew the key before placing it in his jacket pocket. A few nods responded to him but other than that everyone remained silent and continued with their work. It seemed Cokeworth wasn't a busy barracks, no one other than police were in the station.

"Now Miss Potter, can we call any family for you?" Barrows asked as he took a seat across from her behind a desk that was clearly not his.

"Am I being held here against my will?" She asked, finally finding the confidence of the woman that had been Undesirable Number 2.

"Now Miss Potter, there's no need to take such a defensive tone," Rodgers replied from behind her.

"Well so far I have been verbally abused and physically manhandled. I want to know if I've been accused of something," Hermione demanded, shocking the two men who were used to her timid attitude.

"Of course not," Barrows replied gently, not looking like he entirely believed his own words. He shared a look with his senior partner that clearly asked a question.

"So, I'm free to go?" Hermione asked, grabbing her clothes and making to stand. Rodgers immediately stood in front of her to impede any of her progress.

"Now Miss Potter, we are not your enemy, we simply want a few questions answered," Rodgers declared with raised hands set in an appeasing manor.

"I am a victim here," Hermione said clearly, the words burned her insides. She wasn't a victim, Colin and his brother were victims, she was nothing.

"And I've found four other victims with that mark on their arms, barely eleven years old," Rodgers conciliated lowly. A moment passed where Hermione felt herself grow sympathetic towards the older man, he was out of his depth and they both knew it. She wished she could tell him the truth, but it just wasn't possible.

"Sir, the drunk's son from Cell 2 is outside, can I let him in?" A young officer interrupted tentatively. Rodgers sighed but withdrew the key and threw it at the man anyway. The man nodded and headed for the door.

"Listen Sir," Hermione began slowly. "I really wish I could help you, but this," she said motioning towards her injured arm, "is not something that can be fixed," she finished cautiously. The Detective eyed her suspiciously.

"So, you won't help us catch a child murderer," Detective Barrows accused from behind her, his voice losing its kind edge. In response Hermione grabbed her clothes and made to stand once more.

"Best of luck Detectives," she muttered before side stepping Rodgers and heading for the door.

"If you know something and aren't telling us then you're as much responsible for those deaths as the killer is," Barrows countered loudly, drawing the eyes of the room onto her. She ignored him and headed towards the front door that the young officer was opening.

"Sorry for the hold up," he was muttering to the person on the other side. She hurried past him but froze the second she saw who he was talking to. He looked the exact same yet entirely different, if that was even possible. He carried himself identically, but the weariness of the war seemed to be lifted from his young shoulders. That wasn't what had Hermione pause at the door however, it was the recognition in his eyes.

Severus Snape knew Hermione Granger.

"Miss Potter I must implore you to-," Detective Barrows said as he trailed after her but paused when he picked up on the tense moment.

"Do you two…?" He asked motioning between Hermione and Severus. Snape, always the composed man with two faces however, had already broken the moment.

"My father, Officer?" he asked ignoring the Detective's line of questioning and seemingly dismissing Hermione completely. She knew better though, she saw how tense his shoulders were, how much he longed to yell at her like she'd messed up a potion in his precious classroom. She knew him better. Hermione hurried though the doors of the barracks with as much dignity as she could manage with her silly hospital clothes and bloody hand. She moved to walk down the street and around the corner in a daze. What composition she'd managed to scrap together to rid herself of the muggle detectives was slowly coming apart and she knew she needed to find some place to get herself together and dress.

She wandered through the unfamiliar town trying to form a plan in her mind. She knew she needed to find Professor Snape eventually, but what she was to do until then she just didn't know. Looking down an alleyway in a near deserted street she took her opportunity to dart behind a large dumpster and changed into her clothes that were still ruined from the war. Yet, they still were better than wondering around in hospital robes. She had looked like she would be committed at any moment.

She took a deep breath and leaned back against the cold red brick wall of the apartment building she had chosen as her hiding place. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her heart, which had been beating manically ever sense she heard the date. She was beyond tired and knew she needed to get some rest or she'd just end up collapsing instead. She wished Harry was here and instantly felt guilty. Sure, it would be nice to have some company in these odd series of events, but did she really want to put her best friend through this as well?

Suddenly hands had grabbed her wrists firmly. Hermione's eyes flew open but not before her body had acted on instinct and pushed hard against her assailant, but he had been prepared for this reaction and immediately shoved her onto the wall, closing her in with his body. It took her a moment to recognise Severus Snape but when she did she released an irritated growl at his harsh actions.

"What did you do?" Snape hissed, his dark eyes for once filled with rage, rather than their usual unnatural calm. When she didn't reply immediately he shoved her once more against the wall, banging her head in the process. His body towering over her, threatening her usually firm resolve against intimidation.

"Speak," he demanded.

"Nothing," Hermione cried in reply trying to free her wrists from his grip, but he only squeezed tighter.

"What did you do?" He insisted once more, using his clutch on her wrists to shake her whole body.

"Nothing," she replied, louder this time, finally finding her voice. He didn't seem impressed with the answer and shoved her against the wall again this time releasing her wrists and grabbing her chin instead. He turned her face roughly until she had no choice but to glare into his dark eyes. Then they were no longer in the alley, no they were gliding through her memories. Flashes of her time with Harry the last year streaked past her eyes making her feel dizzier then she could ever had imagined. Then the images slowed as he approached the battle until finally he was staring at his own body from Hermione's perspective. She could feel it then, a feeling she been able to supress earlier today. There was most definitely a gap in her memories. A black spot that seemed to press on her very soul.

Then he released her both mentally and physically. She immediately dropped to the ground, the force of his assault robbing her of the little energy she had left. Her head was pounding, and she could feel the obscurity of her mind finally take precedence. The last thing she saw before darkness completely took over was Snape watching her from a few feet away as if she were a piece of evidence that just didn't add up.

…..

 **Hey guys so this is my new story, please let me know if you think it's worth continuing. Much love over the holiday season, especially to those who might be finding it difficult.**

 **It'slaterthanyouthink**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for the reviews you guys! They really encouraged me to continue with the story. Many thanks to tecbee1996, plutoplex, R-E-B-E-C, Zadria Cerulean, roon0, shola2001, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgirL, Divergent4Everdeen, ACupples, Smithback and guests!**

 **Chapter 2**

When Hermione awoke, there was no fogginess in her thoughts as was usual with her mornings. She remembered the last few hours with a crystal clarity that only trauma could rouse. She was back in a bed, that much she could tell from the absence of a dull ache in her back. She could hear heavy footsteps move around her surroundings but choose not to open her eyes for fear of what she would see.

"I know you're awake," Snape's cold voice broke through her musings. Her eyes immediately flew open at the sound of the familiar sound.

"Professor?" She croaked as she pushed down on the bed to sit up. They were in a small room that had the bright sun blocked out with hefty curtains in favour of an artificial light that rested on a reading desk. Hermione was lying on a single bed hugging the opposing wall. She took a moment to take in the man in front of her. He hadn't even looked up from his book when she had spoken, preferring to continue reading some heavy textbook. His hair was being held out of his eyes by his right hand that was pressed into his forehead. It was strange seeing the usually domineering man in nothing but muggle jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and it unsettled Hermione more than she'd care to admit. His motionless stance, sitting on the edge of a thread worn stool, illustrated how stressed he was.

"What's going on Professor?" Hermione pressed when he didn't respond promptly. She could practically feel him roll his eyes at her persistence.

"Is it not obvious already Miss Granger?" Snape responded in a bitter tone finally raising his gaze to hers. Dark circles under his eyes were a testament to how long he'd been pouring over the books that were piled on the old reading desk.

"That's just not possible Sir," Hermione responded timidly, swinging her stiff legs over the edge of the bed until they were firmly planted on the creaky floorboards.

"Open your eyes girl, this isn't some dream designed to trap Undesirable Number 2," he answered, it was clear that his irritation was growing. He was in no mood to be dealing with Hermione and she knew it. Squaring her shoulders, she stood slowly and moved to stand over the cantankerous man who had returned to reading his book.

"How do we fix this?" She murmured lowly. Snape sighed, but not as a method to release his bint up annoyance but almost as a sign of defeat. He moved so that his forehead was resting on his two hands. A moment passed before he finally lifted his head to meet her gaze. Some emotion flashed across his face that she couldn't recognise, she briefly wished she'd mastered Legilimency to watch the direction of his thoughts.

"I don't know," he finally responded carefully, his voice losing some of its cruel edge.

"You don't know?" Hermione demanded, not able to supress her exasperation for another moment.

"Falling back in time isn't exactly a common place occurrence Miss Granger," he replied, his sardonic tone once again returning. He stood up abruptly, knocking the stool he'd been resting on in the process and raked his hands through his hair roughly before releasing an angry growl. With one sudden movement he reached out and shoved all the textbooks off the writing desk and onto the floor with a loud thump. The action forced Hermione to jump backwards so suddenly that she hit her shins off the bed and ended up toppling onto the warm sheets.

He paused at the only door into the room turned away from Hermione. She could see from the angle that both of his hands were covering his mouth and he was trying to control his breathing. A few tense seconds passed where all that could be heard was his laboured breathing trying to settle itself into a steady rhythm.

"I need to go into hiding, lock myself away, that way the timeline won't alter itself too much," Hermione declared when she thought it was safe to speak. "Maybe not too much has changed so fa-," she tried to reason but was interrupted harshly.

"Don't choose now to become a fool Miss Granger," he said quietly. Hermione rolled her eyes in the direction of his back, she knew he was right but that only seemed to incense her further. Her brief few moments in the muggle world would change everything, that's how time worked. It wasn't something that could be clinically controlled, it was untameable.

"And what would you suggest, Sir?" She demanded, not completely able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. A pregnant pause filled the room before he turned and met her eyes.

"Hogwarts, we'll go back to Hogwarts," Snape declared clearly, the decision almost seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.

"Sir, you can't be serious!" Hermione exclaimed, her outrage giving her the strength to rise from the bed once more and take the few steps to stand right in front of the man that had always demanded her respect, even if he hadn't strictly earned it through the years.

"Have you ever known me to joke?" Snape replied, rolling his eyes.

"I can't take those risks Sir," Hermione avowed firmly. Snape closed the space between them until he was glaring down at the shorter girl. She didn't let the move intimidate her and stood her ground furiously.

"Oh, I'm sorry Miss Granger, I presumed that I, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and prominent Order member would be deciding how we would proceed. But do continue, I'm sure a teenager would be more than equipped to have the fate of time itself in her hands," Snape snapped bitterly. The authority in his tone seemed oddly matched to his youthful face but somehow, he managed to remain just as daunting.

"I've already had more than enough resting in my hands this past year," Hermione replied, finally allowing the bitterness she felt towards the so called 'leaders of the light' to fill her words with a venom that even shocked her. Snape's eyes snapped to hers, but she broke the connection swiftly, not wanting him to see that side of her.

"I realise that the adults in your life the last few years have been severely lacking," Snape begun slowly, the irritation and anger in his voice had dissipated, leaving the professional professor she had often seen him become when the golden trio were absent from a scenario. "But this is truly the best move for us, we need those resources not to mention the library," his voice was smooth and for the first time since she woke in the muggle hospital she didn't feel so alone. Something however, wasn't adding up in her mind.

"You know something," Hermione pressed curiously. Snape's expression remained unaltered, but the thought wouldn't leave her mind. "Don't you?" She accused.

"Believe me Miss Granger, if I did, it isn't exactly my number one priority to share it with you," Snape replied, his cold tone returning. Bending down he grabbed one of the scattered books on the floor and handed it to her. She took it instinctively.

"Read," he commanded simply, before leaving the bedroom and closing the door firmly behind him. Hermione growled angrily under her breath before bringing the heavy book closer to her.

 _The Art of Occlumency_

…

A few hours past which Hermione spent pouring over each page of the comprehensive textbook. Her eyes had long since become tired, but she persevered. Professor Snape may not feel the need to share all his information with her, but she'd never give him the satisfaction of justifying the unjust censorship. With the domineering man absent she was finally able to take stock of her injuries without the worry of appearing weak. It was clear that Snape had done something to take the ache from her joints away, but she could still feel the weariness in her mind weigh on her. He had bandaged the hand that she had roughly removed the IV from and even applied bruise salve to where he'd gripped her wrists too determinedly. It just proved to her that he had yet to lose the responsibilities that teaching had encouraged. She couldn't help the sorrow that enveloped her when she noticed the weighty bandage that covered the marking on her arm. It seemed that somethings couldn't be fixed, at least not with the wave of a wand or some fancy potion.

Hermione was so engrossed in the book that when the door of the room opened she couldn't help the startled yelp that she released. Her eyes immediately sought out the visitor and her entire body froze when it wasn't Severus Snape that stood in the doorway but a thin, meek looking woman with dark hair. Her dark eyes were undoubtedly familiar, and it didn't take Hermione more than a mere moment to determine that this was Eileen Snape.

"Hello?" Hermione questioned more than greeted. She had no idea if the older woman had even known that she was residing in her son's room for the day.

"Hello," Eileen replied, her dark eyes studied Hermione intensively until moving to the pile of books that rested on the floor. "Severus has been absent most of the evening," she continued while taking a step into the room. Although the woman seemed docile in nature there was something scrupulous about the way she spoke.

"Oh," Hermione replied ineloquently, clearly out of her depth.

"He did however mention that you would be staying here for the time being," Eileen stated with a Slytherin suspicion clear in her eyes. Although not a pretty woman there was something elegant in the way she moved into the room and sat delicately on the old stool that her son had earlier knocked to the ground. She crossed her legs and placed her hands confidently by her sides, she was clearly waiting for Hermione to reply.

"Did he now?" Hermione deflected, praying that Snape would return some time soon.

"Indeed," she confirmed as she smoothed out her plain grey dress that looked like it had seen better days. "I'm also aware that he must have been quite desperate to set you up here," she continued casually lifting her gaze from her ministrations to study the younger girl in front of her.

"Listen Mrs Snape, I'm really not trying to impose on-," Hermione began, finally conceding to the woman line of questioning.

"You see Severus, really doesn't like bringing people here. There's no getting around the fact that my husband is a chronic alcoholic, and not the jolly kind," she spoke easily, as if they were discussing nothing more than the weather. Eileen studied Hermione's reaction to her words with an openly appraising glance. "But then you already knew that, didn't you?" She pressed further.

Hermione dropped her head to stare at her ratty jeans that had seen more action the past year than they were designed for. She hoped that the articulate woman would continue the one-sided conversation, there was no way that Mrs Snape wouldn't be able to spot a lie.

"I know it's not romantic. Merlin knows he's been pining after that red head down the street since he was barely able to talk," Eileen pushed forward in her nonchalant manor. "And no one that depends on my son is looking for handouts, they would know better," she persevered languidly. Hermione nodded tamely, afraid to give anything away to the noticeably perceptive woman. A few moments passed where both woman remained silent.

"So only one question remains," she surmised nonchalantly. "How much trouble are you and my son in exactly?" She elaborated with an expression that reminded Hermione of the times she'd been caught sneaking ice-cream by her mother. That same tired maternal look that could only be projected by a weary parent. With those dark eyes so full of astute understanding directed at her, Hermione couldn't supress the last few days any further. The sobs didn't start quietly, they were fierce and uncontrollable. Her whole body shook aggressively with every shuddering breath she drew.

Eileen didn't approach her, which made Hermione beyond grateful. She just allowed her to continue her exhausting tirade of emotion until eventually she quietened substantially. Hermione stared at the book in her arms emptily finally allowing herself to feel the stress of the day.

"I'll run a bath then," Eileen said gently, rising to stand gently. "Tobias shouldn't be home for a few hours," she added to the younger girl, as if this was a fact that was worth knowing. Hermione guessed from the stories she'd heard that it was indeed important.

…

Hermione soaked in the bath for what felt like hours. The bandages that Snape had applied peeled off easily when they met the water. The bandage covering Bellatrix's mark also came off with little resistance. The yellow iodine colour was a testament to the muggle doctors attempts to close the wound. It glared angrily at her, the fiery letters filling her vision violently. Roughly Hermione pushed her arm into the water until the bath water diluted the yellow dye and dried blood.

She knew she needed to get herself together. Crying in front of Eileen had been unwise, it had all but confirmed everything the older woman had suspected. Impulsively Hermione dropped her head under the now murky water. She opened her eyes wide and stared at the pattern the light made as it hit the surface of the water. Opening her mouth, she allowed the water to fill it completely and just lied still for a moment. The only sounds she could hear was that of her own body, that familiar steady pumping of blood maintaining her life. She allowed the thought of staying in that position to flitter across her mind for a mere moment before she shot out of the water.

Hermione spat out the water that had entered her throat and inhaled the air rich with oxygen hungrily. She shook her head angrily. She noted bleakly that this was not the time for dramatics before she reached for the brown bottle of shampoo that rested on the edge of the bath and squeeze a small amount onto her tender scalp directly. She massaged her scalp lightly, very much away of the hits it had taken not just from Snape's interrogation but also every time she'd been throw around during the battle.

Feeling cleaner than she had for the last few months she stood and wrapped a towel around herself. Eileen had been kind enough to loan her a nightdress and even wave her wand over Hermione's clothes to clean them and repair what could be fixed. The action had Hermione long for her own wand, which she was sure Snape had put away when she'd collapsed. She dressed into the nightdress quickly leaving her hair in the towel as a problem for some other time. Without a brush it was a senseless worry anyway.

After draining the bath, she headed back into the bedroom slowly, nervous of who she might meet in there. Severus Snape sat on the bed with his back pressed against the wall. A book rested in his lap, but he closed it when she entered the room. He waved his arm towards the seat he had knocked over earlier. Hermione belatedly noted that all the books that had been strewn across the floor were in a neat bundle on the reading desk now.

"You've met my mother," Snape stated more than asked. Hermione nodded back once in response, too tired to stir an argument with the man. Snape reached for something on the bedside table before throwing it in her direction. She caught it on instinct. It was a dark brown glass jar. She opened it hesitantly, it was a white paste that Hermione didn't have to smell to recognise as bruise salve.

"Thanks," she muttered lowly.

"It won't work on that cut of yours," Snape confirmed almost gently.

"I know," Hermione replied with a sigh. Snape nodded back, his eyes unreadable. He rose from the bed slowly and grabbed his book. Hermione couldn't quite make out the title from this angle.

"I'll leave you to rest, the coach downstairs is pull-out so don't worry about being a nuisance," Snape mentioned, something about his words gave the impression of being rehearsed however and Hermione knew instantly that the message was from Eileen more than Severus. She couldn't supress the small smile that pulled at her lips, Eileen was so uncomfortable with words of kindness that she'd rather not be attached to them. It reminded her of Snape throughout the years too strongly not to be amusing.

"And what of tomorrow?" She muttered before she could help herself. Snape eyed her with that hidden expression he wore so often.

"Tomorrow you learn Occlumency," he responded simply before approaching the door forcing Hermione to side step. Something inside Hermione deeply protested his actions however.

"Are you to read for the night then?" She probed once more. He froze with his hand on the door handle. He nodded his head once in response clearly frustrated with the questions. "The light it here is good for reading and won't bother me," she commented lightly, she cringed at her own words. She had slept near Harry and Ron for so long that the idea of being alone in the unfamiliar room worried her more than she'd ever care to admit.

"Here?" Snape inquired, disbelief clear in his tone. He turned to face her slowly, releasing the handle.

"Sure," Hermione responded weakly, colour flooding her pale cheeks. In that moment she knew he recognized the nervousness and embarrassment decorating her expression.

"I suppose lifting those books downstairs would be a pointless exertion of energy," he responded in a cold tone. Hermione felt the relief flood her system. They both knew exactly what she was asking, his decision to play along to her pathetic excuse was more than she'd expected from the man, but then again, he'd always been one for hidden charity. She nodded her head briefly before moving towards the bed.

Settling herself in for the night Hermione turned to face the wall to reduce the awkwardness they were both feeling. She could hear him open the book and find his page swiftly while pulling the stool closer to the desk. Hermione was positive that there was no way she'd find sleep that evening but somewhere between Snape's even breathing and the turn of a page she drifted off into Morpheus's gentle embrace.

…

Hermione was holding on the Dragon's cold scales as tightly as she was able, but she could feel her grip begin to weaken. The night was stormy, and her hair was blowing into face, obscuring her vision. They were chasing her and were catching up no matter how fast the white dragon beat his enormous wings. Soon she'd be back in the drawing room peering into Draco Malfoys' lost eyes as Bellatrix Lestrange carved her arm to pieces. Would it be so bad if she fell? She'd hit the ground and they'd never touch her.

"Granger," Hermione could hear her wicked voice call from behind her. She couldn't hold on any more, by now she was only gripping onto the grooved structure of the Dragon with one arm. She dangled in the air as finger by finger she became closer to falling. She'd be free at least, she considered briefly.

"Hermione," she heard once more, she just had time to note that the voice didn't seem to fit quite right with Bellatrix Lestrange before she was plummeting to the ground. Her scream permeated the wind but seemed to be lost forever in the rough night.

Hermione eyes flew open and met the dark gaze of Severus Snape. A loud noise was disrupting her eardrums painfully, slowly she realised that she was screaming. Snapping her mouth shut she inhaled sharply to calm herself. Snape's fingers were digging into her arms and she was sure he had been shaking her. Pushing herself up in the bed she felt him release her.

"Oh God," she moaned as she began to realise where she was.

"It was a dream," Snape's deep voice pierced the loneliness of the night. Hermione nodded but her breathing didn't seem to want to return to a steady pace. Every breath seemed to shake her entire body, what little oxygen she was taking in seemed to offend the pounding in her head. Tardily she seemed to realise that she was hyperventilating, the realisation did little to combat the situation however. Soon black spots seemed to encroach on her vision.

"Miss Granger you need to calm down," Snape spoke slowly. "I don't have any calming potion here," he continued matter-of-factly, even in Hermione's incapacitated state however, she could feel how uncomfortable he was with this situation. She wanted to stop, to push him away from where he perched on the bed beside her and insist that she was fine, but she couldn't catch her breath. 'Is this how I die?' She thought hazily. The thought only seemed to panic her further. Suddenly someone was gripping her small hands with one big hand.

"Breath with me," Snape demanded, speaking clearly over her loud exploits. Hermione locked eyes with his dark ones and tried her best to listen to his exaggerated slow breathing. A few moments passed where, with a great effort on Hermione's part, she managed to stretch her breathes until she was matching his. The air in her lungs seemed to force her senses to return to her. Her eyes left Snapes and travelled down until she was studying the fierce grip that both her hands had on his arm. Wholly embarrassed she immediately let go of his arm and backed up in the bed until she was sitting with her back against the wall.

"Sorry Sir, I swear that's never happened before," she murmured weakly, feeling the ache in her throat that she quickly put down to the screaming she had done in her dreams. Snape rose from the bed slowly.

"It's called a panic attack Miss Granger, and if you don't deal with whatever's going on in that head of yours this won't be your last," Snape replied firmly, reaching out he flicked on the lamp on the writing desk. This gave Hermione her first real look at the man that night. He was wearing a loose yellow t-shirt and shorts. It was exceptionally odd for Hermione to see him in such casual attire, she was so used to his dark billowing robes. As he reached up and placed both his arms on top of head to push the dark hair out of his eyes, exposing his bare stomach in the process, he looked the age of his body for the first since they returned to this time. His words finally registered to her.

"How to you suggest I deal with last night Professor?" She demanded irately, losing some of her earlier embarrassment.

"Occlumency will help," Snape replied dismissing the emotions in her voice easily. Reaching towards the desk once more he opened a drawer that she hadn't even noticed. From it he withdrew both their wands. "Here," he said as he handed her Bellatrix's ill-fitting wand. She couldn't help the shudder that travelled up her spine at the feel of the wand in her hand.

"That's not your wand," Snape stated as he studied her expression. Hermione shook her head jerkily but didn't release the wand, it was better protection than nothing. Hermione could feel Snape's curiosity, no doubt wondering who she had bested to retrieve the wand. She knew if he had just studied the wand a little further he'd have placed it eventually, and couldn't help but feel grateful that he'd handed it straight to her. She could do without the questions.

"Put it down for now," he stated easily. Without question Hermione slowly dropped the wand to rest on the pillow beside her. "Learning this subject is never easy Miss Granger, but to keep our secrets it is imperative," Snape explained clearly. She nodded weakly, knowing from the stories Harry had told her that what was coming next would be by no means pleasant.

"Clear your mind Miss Granger," Snape commanded with authority.

 **Please let me know your thoughts on the chapter, it means a lot. Thanks very much and have a very merry Christmas.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews. They really made Christmas special.**

 **Thanks so much to Kindering, KyloRen'sgirl213, Zadria Cerulean, Artemis Decibal, smithback, shelle007, Saamon-sama, HGranger89 and guests!**

 **"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." – J.R.R Tolkien**

 **Chapter 3**

Hermione exhaled loudly as she released the swing set robe that she had been twisting for the past few minutes methodically. Initially she started to spin slowly but as she gathered speed she shut her eyes and tried to appreciate how much the dizzying sensation elevated the constant barrage of thoughts her mind was inflicting upon her. Occlumency was by no means an easy topic to learn, but she had never expected it would rattle her this much. Every small thought that was pushed to the forefront of her mind was unlocking entire memories that she'd thought long forgotten. Some were of the horrible atrocities of the last year others, perhaps more painful, were of the happy times that now seemed so far away. Basic things like spending Sunday mornings hunting for _The Times_ after mass in the local shop with her father or just reading next to the boys while they played chess were so distant they almost felt like a different life.

When Snape had declared that he was finished with the rudimentary lessons Hermione had immediately asked if it was okay if she took a walk. He'd looked at her oddly and told her to come and go as she pleased. It seemed strange to her that the meticulous man would be so flippant about her effecting the timeline. She'd long sense deducted that whatever he knew was more than just a trifle of knowledge. Severus Snape was never flippant about anything, least of all the fate of the wizardry world or more precisely the fate of one Miss Lily Evans. It had passed through her mind more than once that perhaps he was using the opportunity to fix the mistakes he had made throughout his youth, but then she dismissed the notion. Not trusting Snape was a mistake she wasn't planning to make again anytime soon.

"Excuse me Miss," a child's voice summoned Hermione from her deliberations. It was such a sudden intrusion that she jumped a bit before examining the only child in the deserted park. The weather was awful, with grey storm clouds brewing and Christmas only a few days away most children were inside. She had spied a few Christmas trees in the windows of the houses on her walk that had unsettled her, it was May only a few days ago from her perspective after all. The child was a young girl that couldn't have been more than seven and in Hermione's opinion had no business wondering around in the cold alone, but these were different times. The girl's blond pigtails were pushed back over her shoulders, so she could see her bright pink ears that must have been aching from the cold. Her bright pink coat and jeans were no match for the chill in the day.

"Yes?" Hermione responded before letting out a cough, her voice was a little unused today.

"Can I swing next to you?" The girl asked, with a tone that suggested that this was a serious affair that required a lot of thought.

"Of course," Hermione replied with a small smile that was harder to summon than she'd like to admit.

"Thanks," she replied with a grin, flashing her teeth and showing the absence of her front tooth proudly. Hermione only nodded, she contemplated rising from the cold swing bench but disregarded the idea, all that waited for her was the dark Snape household.

"My name's Olive," she said as she pushed off the ground and extended her legs to gain a bit of height. "What's yours?" Olive asked. It seemed there would be no peace for Hermione here. She thought about it for a moment before responding.

"Luna," she said, deciding to stick with the first lie she told the detective earlier.

"What are you wearing Luna?" She asked after a moment had passed. The smile came more easily to Hermione's face then, the bluntness of children was quite refreshing, she'd had almost no experience with it being an only child with few cousins. That morning Eileen had left a few old blouses, skirts and dresses for Hermione, a kindness she hadn't been expecting but very much appreciated. She picked up a large shirt that may have been Tobias's, it fell to her knees, and matched it with a dark pair of tights. She was sure Eileen had intended her to sleep in the shirt, but it was more comfortable than any of the dresses or skirts the bone thin Eileen had to spare. She was sure that the outfit might even look chic in her own time but now Hermione looked out of place especially in the blue hoodie she had rescued from the original war-torn outfit she had worn to the past that did little to keep out the cold.

"Nothing boring," Hermione replied with a grin. The girl's sharp blue eyes studied her for a moment.

"That's good I guess," Olive replied after much consideration. Then she reached out her left hand in front of Hermione's face. Her fingernails were a bright blue with embedded sparkles. "Greta from school gave me her nail polish on the last day 'cause she thinks she's getting more from Santa," she continued, as if this was a reasonable path for the conversation to follow.

"It's very pretty," Hermione complimented lightly. The paint obviously wasn't applied with the steadiest of hands, it stained the skin of her fingers in many places and was bumpy in others.

"I can't get my right hand though, will you?" She asked. Hermione froze, completely flabbergasted by the request, she paused a moment to see if she had misheard but Olive dutifully withdrew a bottle of nail polish from her pocket.

"Sure," Hermione consented, not feeling like she had much choice with the girl's hopeful eyes directed at her. Olive immediately hopped off the swing and kneeled on the sand base of the swing in front of Hermione, roughly placing her right hand in her lap. The touch was so familiar and innocent that she found herself stunned, it had been a while since things had been so simple. Grabbing the paint bottle from Olive's hand she twisted it open slowly.

"Aren't you cold?" Hermione asked the younger girl.

"Aren't you?" She responded swiftly with a grin. Hermione shook her head smiling, it was true after all, they both were equally unmatched to the weather. She cleaned the brush off before bringing it closer to the little girl's hand. She hovered over the nail of her index finger but couldn't quite manage to stop a trimmer in her hand.

"Woah, you must be seriously cold," Olive commented, eyeing Hermione's shaking hand curiously. Only it wasn't the cold that was affecting her hand. The trimmer was something she'd noticed for a while but not ever had the time to address, another gift from Bellatrix Lestrange. Prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse had many unfortunate side effects that she was just now coming to terms with. She slowly replaced the bottle lid with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, maybe your nails might have to wait," Hermione commented with a delicate smile, there was a lump at the back of her throat that she was having difficulty swallowing.

"Don't worry, it chips anyway," Olive explained away, rising to her feet and heading for the swing again. The was the wonderful thing about children, blunt as they were, they had a special way of reading a situation and taking the positive side of things, especially when someone's feelings might be hurting.

"Miss Potter?" A voice summoned from behind the pair. Hermione immediately twisted around in her swing while simultaneously reaching for her wand. Standing a few paces away stood Detective Barrows. His young face clearly hadn't been shaved that morning and his clothes were ruffled, as if he'd slept in them.

"Detective Barrows!" Hermione greeted, automatically rising to stand between the older man and the little girl. "Why don't you head home now Olive, it's a little chilly out," she continued, her watchful gaze never leaving the detective. Olive, perhaps reading the sudden tension in her new friend's body, nodded and without a word walked off into the estate. "How did you find me?" Hermione demanded when she was sure she was gone.

"I'm a detective, anyone could see that the Snape kid recognised you," Barrows answered, his voice sounded rough. He took a step forward until he was standing in front of Hermione, she couldn't help but grip the wand in her pocket.

"What do you want?" Hermione said, dispensing with any pleasantries.

"Interesting, that he's in a school for the gifted don't you think?" Barrows asked with narrowed eyes, he had obviously been doing his reading about the Snape family. He clearly wasn't the same man that had grabbed her so gently in the hospital just yesterday morning.

"Not particularly," she replied but she could feel the blood drain from her face.

"Odd that all those children that we found with that horrible mark were due to go to boarding school before the year was out," he continued, his expression was hardened. Hermione took a little step back, her thighs banging into the swing behind her.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about Detective," she intoned firmly.

"Five kids are dead, and it doesn't even make it on the paper. Detective Rodgers disappeared last night along with his entire family, his whole house cleared out. I've been put off the case without so much as a word of explanation. The only thing left in any way connected to those children is you, their entire families have just vanished," Barrows listed striding towards Hermione until he was standing right in front of her. She tried her best to hold her ground but all she wanted to do was take a step back and draw her wand.

"I don't know-," she tried to reason but Barrows was beyond patience.

"Don't give me that shit!" He growled grabbing the robe of the swing on either side of her, effectively closing her in. "How deep does this thing go?" He demanded angrily. "I met each of those parents, I saw how terrified they were," he continued in an exasperated tone. "Then they just disappear along with my partner," he insisted.

"Detective Barrows I truly wish I could help you, but this isn't something you can fix," she murmured, trying to reason with the man. His proximity was putting her on edge, her adrenaline was demanding that she push him away immediately. The last few times that she'd been boxed in like this her life was usually in jeopardy and that association didn't just disappear overnight.

"Let me try," he intoned, his blue eyes pleading with hers. She didn't need to master occlumency to know how distraught the man was. She paused for a moment and she could tell from his expression that he thought she was breaking.

"I wish I could tell you everything, but this is so much bigger than you could ever know," she whispered, his face fell in disappointment.

"Are you scared? Please be brave. Be brave for those children," he pushed once more. His words were a tease for a Gryffindor but still she didn't rise to it. His hands left the robe and settled on her shoulders instead. The contact did nothing to abate Hermione's anxiety.

"What is going on here?" The cold voice of Severus Snape demanded from behind the pair. "Unhand her immediately," he commanded authoritatively. Hermione never thought that the familiar voice would ever bring her any relief, but she was proved wrong. Barrows immediately dropped his hands from her shoulders and turned to examine the teenager that had managed to sneak up on him. Her shoulders sagged with the sudden release of tension.

"Follow up questions Mr Snape, none of your concern," Barrows declared with a confidence that only youth brought, he took a step towards Snape while straightening to his full height. It was obvious that he thought that Snape, who was not yet fully grown would be intimidated by the display. He was wrong.

"You're right it's not my concern, but it'll be yours if I contact the station and tell them you've been browbeating victims with _house visits_ ," he commented with acid in his tone, the inflection he placed on his final two words were missed by no one, their implications evident. Barrows immediately stiffened at his words, clearly Snape had struck a chord.

"Watch your tone boy," Barrows warned, his voice sharp.

"Watch your actions _Detective_ ," he quipped while coming to stand between Hermione and the irate man. It was strange for her to be on the other side of Snape's ire and she found herself finally appreciating his quick thinking and sardonic confidence. He was an ally that anyone would want in an argument. Barrows glared at him for a moment before shaking his head indignantly.

"This isn't over," he threatened the pair before stalking away from the park without so much as a second glance. Hermione waited until he was out of sight before turning to face Snape. His face was clear of emotion, as per usual but she could clearly see how tightly he gripped the wand in his pocket from the tension in his arm. Without so much as a word he closed the distance between the two of them and studied her face with searching eyes.

"You seem fine," he concluded, the question was clear in his voice. She nodded shakily, thrown by his concern. Ashamed she remembered that this wasn't some teenager, this was the Headmaster of Hogwarts and she was a student. His youthful exterior was throwing her the longer she remained in the past.

"I'll deal with this, you head back to the house," Snape commanded shortly.

"Deal with this?" Hermione repeated perplexed. In response he only twitched the arm that she knew held his wand. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Won't the Ministry deal with the situation?" She asked quietly, not wanting to offend the man that had just rescued her from an uncomfortable situation.

"Most likely, but I'd rather our names be kept off any official documents if it can be helped," he admitted in a rare moment of transparency. Hermione forced herself to remember that the man in front of her was a Master of Mind Arts.

"What will he remember?" She couldn't help but ask.

"Everything but finding you, the Ministry will do the rest when they catch up with him," Snape explained before turning to follow the Detective. "Go back to the house," he called over his shoulder before speeding up until he was out of sight. Hermione huffed at the order, rolling her eyes, but nonetheless she turned and headed back down the street hoping against odds that Eileen was alone.

…..

Sirius Black was bored, that much was obvious. He'd decided to head home with James for the Christmas break, without the rest of his friends at Hogwarts he would have been in for a dull holiday anyway. He never suspected he's be sat in the very muggle house of Lily Evans so close to Christmas day however. The second Marlene's invitation arrived James was already pulled his winter robes on. Sirius had to admit that his little infatuation with the pretty red head was getting out of control.

He shook his head before looking around Lily's very pink bedroom, it was obvious that it hadn't been redecorated since she prematurely left when she was eleven. The walls were a baby pink and little teddy bears were scattered all over the room. He watched as James played around with the record machine that Lily had on her bedside table while she chuckled at his confusion. Sirius couldn't supress the small smirk that flitted across his face, he had to admit that it was nice to see James so happy. Remus on the other hand was flipping through a magazine lying on Lily's frilly bed covers with Marlene leaning into his side as they marvelled at muggle gossip.

"I thought we were going out," Sirius called to no one in particular.

"Two secs Pads," James replied without even looking away from his conversation with Lily. Sirius rolled his eyes at the obvious dismissal before sauntering over towards the window seat. The muggle estate was miles from the scattered magical communities that he was used to and the closeness of the houses boggled his mind a little. He peered over at the muggle park that resided just across the street. He had to admit that growing up here surrounded by children of a similar age could have been idyllic.

He watched as a little girl with blond pigtails skipped down the street and meandered into the near deserted park. Her clothes were light and seemed no match for the cold wind that stirred just on the other side of the window pane. Sirius had to remind himself that the little girl was a muggle and therefore had no charm placed on her to divert the chill of the afternoon. She winded her way through all the devices designed for child play that he didn't recognise before eventually settling near an older girl that was sitting on some sort of seat that was reminiscent of a rocking chair but held to a piece of metal with robe.

The girl she approached seemed lost in thought before the child demanded her attention. Sirius couldn't hide a smile as the girl, who had obviously never previously been aquatinted with the child, struggled to distance herself from her before ultimately entering a conversation reluctantly. Both girls' clothes were so unusual that Sirius held no doubt that there was nothing even remotely magical about either of them. An idea traipsed across Sirius's mind, he knew just how to make the afternoon a little more exciting. He'd never been with a muggle girl and he wondered if it would be any different, the girl that was currently helping the kneeling child was quite pretty, if a little skinny. It was true that he had steadily made his way through most of the girls at Hogwarts, excepting the Slytherins of course, and it was about time that he broadened his horizons.

Hope was dashed quickly however, as an older man stalked across the park behind the girls and seemed to call out to her. She quickly turned and leapt to her feet to greet the man, sending the little girl on her way. Sirius sighed at the loss of his entertainment for the day and was about to turn back and convince James to leave the dull house before the direction of the couple's conversation seemed to take an intense turn. It didn't take an expert to tell that the girl was uncomfortable with the older mans proximity.

"Lily," Sirius called, the sharpness in his tone seemed to summon the redhead out of her flirtation with his friend and she quickly came to stand next to him. James followed suit, sending an annoyed look his way.

"Oh dear," Lily muttered under her breath, clearly coming to the same conclusion that Sirius had as she peered out of the window. "I don't recognise her at all," she added with a small frown.

"I'll see if everything's alright," Sirius murmured turning to leave the room, he might not have been the most romantic man in the world, but he could never sit back and watch such unwanted advances unsettle someone like that. He'd just reached the door when Lily spoke up once more.

"Wait," she murmured quietly. Sirius frowned but nonetheless walked back towards the window in interest. The expression of disconcertion painted across Lily's face unsettled Sirius.

"What the _fuck_ is he doing here?" Sirius questioned in frustration. His ire summoned Remus and Marlene to the window. They all watched as Snape confronted the man that had been imposing his presence on the younger girl. This part they were used to, they had all been on the receiving end of a verbal smack down with the dark-haired boy, they weren't used to the confidence as opposed to resentment that seemed to exude from him. In no time at all the older man was stalking back across the park leaving the pair to glare after him.

The girl turned to Snape and Sirius was surprised to see recognition and gratefulness painted across her face. He was even more shocked to watch as the Slytherin boy moved to stand in front of her and examine her, even with his face blank of any emotion Sirius could tell the action was made from concern for the girl's wellbeing. They conversed for a few moments before Snape made to follow the man down the road, calling something they couldn't hear over his shoulder as he left. The girl only rolled her eyes in response but in a familiar fashion, as if she were well used to his behaviour, Sirius even made out a ghost of a smile on her pretty face before she walked away in the opposite direction.

"Strange," Lily muttered under her breath. "Very strange," she repeated more to herself than anyone else in the room. Everyone turned from the window and headed to sit in various spots around the room facing each other.

"Someone should warn her," James said first, he was studying Lily's expression intensely, obviously searching for a clue to show him how she felt about what she just witnessed.

"Of what?" Remus asked. "She seems to know him well enough," he finished as he examined a hangnail on his finger, surreptitiously avoiding everyone's eye. Severus Snape had always been a testy subject for him every since that fateful night that Sirius preferred never to think about.

"What if she's under a spell?" Marlene muttered, voicing the suspicion that many held in the room.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here guys," Remus returned hesitantly. Everyone turned to study Lily who was curiously quiet on the subject of her old friend.

"Lily?" James pressed. She shook her head withdrawing from her thoughts and turned towards her friends.

"We'll have to talk to her, I'd feel guilty if I didn't and something happened to her," she concluded reluctantly. Her green eyes held an emotion that Sirius couldn't recognise, and it set him on edge.

"I'll come too, it'll look less suspicious if it's just not you," James suggested, eyeing the redhead warily. She looked towards him and smiled but it was obvious how strained it was, everyone knew that she still held some reservations about his treatment of Snape.

"Me too," Sirius chimed in before he could help himself, this was a puzzle that he knew he had to see through to the end. He didn't know why put something told him that the drab boy and pretty girl's connection was anything but boring, in fact he was sure that his holidays were no longer going to be boring.

Lily nodded in reply with a faraway look in her eyes.

"It's decided then," Marlene said with a nod and positive smile that summed up her personality succinctly.

"I've to visit Peter tomorrow anyway," Remus concluded easily.

….

Severus Snape leaned on the dilapidated broken street light that was rusting orange fragments onto his dark winter robes. He didn't even notice. Night had fallen a few hours before, he had purposefully delayed his return home and wandered through the park as if on autopilot. His cold breaths left his body and fogged up the air in front of him lethargically. There was only one thing that held his eye however. The bright light of one bedroom in particular emitted a glow that unfairly warmed a part of his heart that he had long thought destroyed. He waited with bated breath for that one glance that he was sure would sustain him throughout the challenges that he knew to be ahead of him.

Then there she was, red hair tousled prettily around her heart shaped face, a light smile on her face that he knew only time with her parents could bring. His breath caught as he watched her pyjama clad arm reach up to pull in the slightly ajar window. She paused then and stared out into the darkness of the night and he rejoiced in the solace of his obscured position. Then casually she closed the curtains that he knew had a pink trim on the end, effectively shutting him out for the night and perhaps forever.

"Oh Lily," he breathed before raising his hands up to massage his aching temples. "I'm so sorry," he muttered to the darkness. It was the closest he'd ever come to apologising to the girl that he saw every night in his dreams and he felt something lift from his weighed down chest.

He took a deep breath before stepping out from his concealed location and beginning his sedated walk down the empty street. Entrenched in his subconscious he could recognise that that this was the end, he had to leave her here. The only way she could really be happy was by letting her go and that was what he really craved, for her to be happy. He only ever brought her pain.

He reached the house much to his own surprise, his thoughts had made the journey short. With a sigh he opened the front door and was glad to be meet with absolute silence. He moved lightly up the stairs until he reached his old bedroom, in his own time he had long ago converted the box room into his own potions store room making it disconcerting whenever he opened the heavy door that dragged on the carpet. Hesitating for a moment he listened for any noise on the other side but heard nothing, he opened the door as quietly as he could and stepped inside.

The Granger girl was lying with the covers sprawled half over her twitching body and half on the ground. With a sigh he moved closer to examine her distressed state. From her memories the first day he had found her he'd sensed trauma and pain stemming from the last few months, he hadn't delved too deeply into those recesses of her mind however. Occlumency may be an art used to extract information, but Severus had no intention of forcing anyone to relive such dreadful ordeals, especially someone like Hermione Granger. She had earned her title of 'golden' throughout the last few years, even he had to admit that she had worked hard and remained the sole force that pushed Harry Potter towards victory. The boy and her really were a remarkable pair, loyal and faithful. She had earned his respect, that much was certain, not that he'd ever tell her.

She had opened the heavy curtains some time during the day and the street light flooded the room with an orange glow that illuminated the carving on her arm. He sighed as she released a sob in her sleep, it was time to wake her. He just hoped this wouldn't become a routine occurrence.

"What have they done to you?" Severus muttered to himself. He knew then, and perhaps had known since he saw her that day in the police barracks, so frail and alone in her thin hospital gown, that he wouldn't be able to tell her. She could never know what happened in the Shrieking Shack.

Let her live in hope, she deserved it.

 **Please let me know what you all think, I'd be really grateful and filled with encouragement to write the next chapter (wink, wink). You guys are awesome.**

 **Have a wonderful New Year!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey so I'd like to point out that I made a bit of a mistake when referencing Legilimency and Occlumency in the previous chapter, my bad so many apologies.**

 **Many many many thanks to all the kind reviewers! Thanks to Snaperipper, Artemis Decibal, Divergent4Everdeen, Jude, Zadria Cerulean, An Evil God, plutoplex and all the guests! This chapter is for you guys.**

"Books have a unique way of stopping time in a particular moment and saying: Let's not forget this." – Dave Eggers

Chapter 4

Hermione crept down the stairs as quietly as she could manage. She flinched visibly when one of the old wooden steps released an audible creek. Pausing for a moment she listened to her surroundings before continuing when she heard no immediate response to her advancement. She passed the closed sitting room door with her breath held, knowing that Severus was probably fast asleep at the early hour. She released a sigh of relief when she finally reached the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge with guilt weighing heavily on her heart. Yesterday Eileen had told her directly that if she was hungry she was more than welcome to fix something up for herself. At the time Hermione had waved her off, Detective Barrows had effectively turned her off food for the day. However, this morning, lying in bed sleepless after a series of nightmares, she could finally appreciate how long it had been since she had something to eat. It didn't make her feel any better taking from a family that was obviously struggling.

Opening the fridge, she reached for some cheese and butter, the only things that didn't require cooking and began to hunt through the cupboard for some bread. When she found it she quickly began to fix herself up a sandwich, a few years ago she might think the food slightly pathetic but after a year on the run a bit of cheese was the equivalent of manna from heaven.

"So, you're the one that's been shacking up in my son's room," A masculine voice called from behind her. Hermione immediately dropped the knife she'd been using to spread butter on her bread and whipped around with her wand in hand. Tobias Snape was a tall broad man with dark hair and a nose so like Severus's that Hermione did a double take. He was sat at the far side of a table partially obscured in darkness with a glass of whiskey in his hand and the bottle nearly empty on the table.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered, reluctantly lowering her wand. This was however, his home and she was just a visitor. Tobias reached out with his leg and pushed the chair opposite him out from the table.

"Please, take a seat," he intoned with a haphazard gesture towards the chair. Hermione paused for a moment, considering her options before abandoning her sandwich and making her way over towards the table and sitting down. She was in his house, so she'd have to play by his rules, for now at least. "What's your name?" He asked when she had settled down. Eileen hadn't even asked her that question, probably because she was so attuned with the horrors occurring around the country.

"Luna," Hermione mumbled not meeting the man's eye, it took her a moment to remember that this wasn't Severus Snape. He couldn't read the lie in her eyes, and even if he could she doubted he'd care.

"A lovely name for a pretty girl," he muttered as he took a swing of his drink and watched her carefully. "Too pretty to be around here anyway," he added as he roughly placed the glass back on the table.

"I'm sorry Sir, I don't know-," Hermione attempted, growing more uncomfortable with her situation.

"I imagine there's a lot of things you don't know Luna," Tobias cut across with a laugh that lacked any trace of humour. "But with reactions like that, who needs to be in the know," he continued, gesturing towards the kitchen counter where she'd drawn her wand on him.

"I'm sorry Sir I was just startled," Hemione apologised uneasily.

"You know I was in the army, once upon a time," he muttered as he poured another drink for himself. "Everyone thought I was so lucky, I missed the biggest war we'd ever known by what? Three years," he scoffed but raised three of his fingers to emphasis his frustration. Hermione knew better than to reply, this was obviously a very old one-sided argument that she had no weight in. "I mean who's ever heard of Malaya these days?" He added with a scoff. "No one," he added, the fake smile that had been occupying his haggard face dropped completely. She met his eyes hesitantly, they looked tired and reminded her hauntingly of Remus Lupin when he had first started teaching.

"The point is _Luna_ , that I know a thing or two about war," he muttered pushing himself to his feet. The sudden action set Hermione on edge. He wandered towards the kitchen counter, passing her by without even a glance. She watched him carefully, holding her wand tightly in her pocket as she did. "I could feel one stirring in the eyes of my own son since the first summer he came home from that _place_ ," the aggression in his words filled the air with tension. He faced away from her, she could just make out the firm grip he held on the edge of the kitchen counter and the tension in his shoulders under the many layers of clothes he wore. "And in yours I can see it's in full swing," he concluded as he turned to face her.

"Sir really there's nothing-," Hermione started trying to find her footing in the inquisition she had stumbled into. She met his eyes fleetingly but found herself stuck in his gaze, suddenly it wasn't Tobias Snape that stood in front of her but his son, he'd looked so similar when he'd loitered around Grimmauld Place waiting impatiently for an Order meeting. The image caused her to inhale sharply.

"I used to envy those men that had made it in World War 2, the German's were evil and that was it, they knew their opponent. I wonder if you and my son know your friends from your enemies," he surmised shortly, his northern accent finally leaking into his deep voice. He picked up the plate with her sandwich and placed it in front of her, unsettling her with his proximity. Then he placed a clean glass in front of her that she didn't see him withdraw from the cupboard. Reaching out over her shoulder he grabbed the bottle of Bell's Whiskey and poured out a large amount. His coat brushed off the side of her cheek causing her to flinch violently. Tobias didn't even spare her glance as he pulled away leaving the glass on the table.

"That should stop the shaking and maybe give you a good night's sleep," he intoned darkly before leaving the room and noisily making his way up the stairs. Hermione released a breath that she hadn't even known she'd been holding. Looking down at the table she took in the glass that stood so harmlessly right beside her sandwich. She paused for a moment and watched her hands that shook pugnaciously in front of her face, they taunted her showing a part of herself to the world that she never wanted seen. She pushed the sandwich to the other side of the table firmly before picking the cool glass up using her trembling fingers. For the first time in her life she refused to think of the consequences of her actions and took a giant gulp of the sharp drink. It burned her throat and warmed her in a way that she desperately needed. Eagerly she finished the glass before pouring another one quickly and downing that one in one go.

A few minutes passed before finally her hands steadied and she was once again in control of her body. Standing slowly, she could feel her thoughts muddle together as she took a step forward. For the first time she was free from her mind overthinking everything, from studying every action she had taken over the last few months. Everything slowed down and all that was there was in that moment, not the past or the future, just her standing in the kitchen right then and there. On shaking legs, she padded down the hall in her tights and borrowed shirt and left the house, barefoot and without a jacket. It didn't matter, the cold couldn't hurt her now, not now that she was so warm inside.

Hermione wandered down the streets of Spinner's End in a daze until finally she reached the park that she'd sat down in yesterday. She headed towards the swings but decided that maybe swinging back and forth wasn't the best idea she'd ever had and instead decided to lie in the grass and study the clouds that the rising sun was illuminating. The freezing morning dew sent a shudder down her spine as the wet penetrated her thin shirt, but still she didn't move. Everything seemed so still in that moment, so untouched by the horrors of the actions of the last year of her life. A single tear slid from her eye and made its way down her temple until it met the cold grass. She closed her eyes and evened out her breathing until she felt nothing at all and her thoughts were wholly incomprehensible.

…

Hermione woke to a pounding in her head and the sun's harsh glare stinging her eyes. She pushed herself up in the grass and had to take a moment to steady her tumultuous stomach that seemed to want to empty whatever small contents it had managed to hold onto over the last few days. Looking around she guessed that it wasn't any later than nine in the morning. She belatedly noted that it wasn't the sun's reprimand that had woken her up at all but the voices of men not too far from where she was probed up on her elbows. She turned her head to peer behind a tree that was hiding her from view.

Two men in dark cloaks faced away from Hermione and hovered over a little girl with blonde pigtails. ' _Olive'_ Hermione recognised foggily. She could tell from the little girl's stance that she wasn't familiar with the men and that put her on high alert. One of the men knelt in front of the girl and reached out towards her but Olive drew back and took a large step away from the pair. Hermione released a sigh of irritation. It seemed there was no rest for her, not even when she was suffering from her first hangover and colder than she had ever been before. Silently she pushed herself onto her feet and stood, her headache seemed to intensify at this action, but she stubbornly ignored it.

Making sure her wand was still in her pocket she stepped forward from behind the tree line and watched as Olive took in her presence with relief, this only seemed to fuel Hermione's anger.

"Excuse me, this is a children's park," she hissed, gesturing for Olive to stand behind her. The little girl immediately raced over to stand beside the familiar woman. Hermione tardily noted that the two men weren't alone, a red headed woman stood to their left leaning on a tree that had hidden her from Hermione's watchful gaze. There was a brief pause where the three strangers seemed to study her and then pass looks amongst themselves. Finally, the redhead took a step forward and reached her hand out as a way of introduction.

"Sorry about this I live just across the street," she explained with a wide smile that didn't meet her eyes.

"That's nice for you," Hermione replied sardonically, surprising even herself. She dismissed the other girl's hand with a suspicious glance. "I still fail to see how harassing a child is okay, no matter where you live," she continued, taking a hold of Olive's shoulders, she steered the girl until she was safely behind her. The girl moved without complaint.

"We were just seeing if she was okay," the red head replied defensively.

"Well she is, so I suggest you go on your merry way," Hermione countered coldly. The woman paused for a moment, Hermione could see the cogs moving in her brain trying to formulate a reasonable response.

"I couldn't help but see that you're familiar with Severus Snape, I know him well," she tried again. As if someone had lifted a spell finally Hermione's foggy mind managed to piece together the clues that were right in front of her. The girl with red hair and green eyes, her friends in cloaks that she had dismissed as appropriate for the time now looked suspiciously wizardry, the boy to her lefts raven hair and bone structure that reminded her so vividly of a dear friend and then of course the boy to her rights familiarity.

"Oh Christ," Hermione croaked mournfully.

"That's the usual response to his presence alright," Sirius Black muttered with a smirk. Abandoning her defensive stance, she turned towards the little girl hesitantly.

"Head home now Olive," she murmured gently. Olive seemed to hesitant for a moment before she began to head back to the estate, ensuring to give Sirius and James a wide berth as she did so. Hermione blearily saw her look back and give her a sad look before breaking out into a run.

"You've half terrified that little girl," Hermione accused fiercely, trying her best to think what the best route forward would be from here. However, her head was fuzzy and she was tired, too tired to deal with the sensitive nature of timelines, no matter how urgent they were.

"We didn't intend to," Lily said clearly, watching Hermione carefully. She raised her hands, palm forward, in an appeasing gesture that did little to comfort Hermione.

"You know what they say about good intentions," she murmured irately. Sirius took a step forward forcing Hermione to back up into the rough bark of a tree behind her.

"Listen girl, we were wondering how well you know Sniv- Snape?" Sirius corrected, his voice was impatient, and she could see him gripping his wand in his front pocket firmly from the tension in his upper arm. She finally allowed herself to take in his appearance, he was so very different from the broken man that had been forced into hiding. Here was a vibrant boy, nearly a man, with bright eyes and a disposition that was never too far from amusement. He was tall with dark hair that showed no sign of premature greying and a face that was strong and handsome.

"What business is that of yours?" Hermione responded coldly. She was outnumbered, but these teenagers had no experience in battle, she could see it in their eyes. Just past Lily's shoulder she could just about make out someone approaching them in the distance, but not the identity of the addition to their uncomfortable conversation.

"Just curious really," James replied, his voice was even similar to Harry's, with a playful tone that had a little bit of an edge that hinted at power. Hermione's head whipped around to face him but found she couldn't formulate a response. She was consumed with her need for her old friend. There hadn't been a time the last year that Hermione hadn't slept and spent the day in his loud company until this strange week, it felt like she was missing a limb, and staring at his father the absence stung that much keener.

"Any friend of Severus's is a friend of ours," Lily cut in with a clear lie in her eyes. Hermione scoffed, Snape was right, Gryffindor's really do wear their emotions on their sleeve. "You look freezing," she continued with a critical assessing glance. The two boys seemed to take in her state of dress too, she was barefoot, and her shirt was nearly drenched through. She knew she should have been embarrassed but her defensive nature hadn't yet allowed any emotions other than fear and anxiety through. She watched as Sirius shrugged off his winter robe from the corner of her eyes warily. He approached her slowly so as not to startle her. She turned to watch his movements carefully.

"Easy Lass," he murmured as he stepped in front of her and threw the cloak over her shoulders. The heat immediately seeped into her frozen skin causing her to shiver. "We just want to know if you're okay?" He added taking a step closer to her until he was standing right in front of her. She straightened her spine and peered up into his grey eyes hesitantly.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" She questioned slowly. The warmth was distracting, and her head was spinning uncomfortably. She couldn't tell if it was because of the situation, the alcohol she'd consumed earlier or just the general lack of food she'd had recently, either way she knew she wasn't fit for a fight just yet.

Sirius reached out with his right hand and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. She flinched back out of his reach on instinct, his over familiarity was disconcerting her more than she'd like to admit. It took her a moment to work out what they were hinting at, but when she did an inexplicably defensive emotion grew inside of her.

"What exactly is going on here?" A shrill voice said from behind Lily. Hermione never thought she'd be so relieved to hear Eileen's voice than she was just then. The tall woman dressed in a worn black dress stepped in the middle of the teenagers with a fierce expression on her face.

"Luna, what are you doing all the way out here? And with no shoes to boot," She questioned fiercely, her sharp gaze accessed Hermione with concern. Hermione just about made out the shock that was plastered across Lily's face at the woman's appearance. "Take that cloak off," she ordered, while simultaneously shrugging out of her own coat. It took a moment for Hermione to comprehend the words that the older woman had spoken. When she did she quickly pulled Sirius's heavy winter coat off her shoulders and threw it in his direction, he caught it expertly. Immediately she grieved the warmth but didn't have that long to consider the chill penetrating her bones before Eileen's warm coat was thrown over her shoulders.

"Teasing a defenceless woman now?" Eileen muttered towards the three teenagers that surrounded Hermione. Her voice had a fierce edge that reminded Hermione of her potions professor so strongly that she was shocked into silence. To her surprise Sirius, James and Lily all stayed silent as they watched her interact with the older woman. Eileen linked her arm with hers and began to pull her along.

"Home now Luna," Eileen explained. Hermione could feel herself being watched by the older woman, as if she could fall apart at any second. She had to admit that Eileen's assessments weren't far from the truth, her whole body felt worn and her mind had somehow stopped understanding the situation that surrounded her. It reminded her of that feeling you get when you slowly realise that you're in a dream but aren't quite sure, so you just play along for a while. She allowed herself to be pulled along out of the park leaning heavily on Eileen for support. Her bare feet ached as she walked on the hard-bumpy gravel.

It wasn't until the house finally came into view that black spots started to encroach on her vision. Her legs became heavy and Eileen's relentless pace began to become almost impossible. Pulling her arm from Eileen's grasp she paused and tried to blink away the dizzy sensation that was slowly overtaking her. Vaguely she noticed a figure leave the house and hurry over to them.

They arrived just in time to catch her before she hit the pavement.

…

Sirius Black watched the troubled girl get dragged along by the imposing woman until they were out of sight. When he'd first seen her drenched wet and barefoot he'd been sure that Severus was conducting some sort of weird Death Eater experiment on the poor muggle. However, as their conversation went on and she admonished them for questioning the blond child it was clear that she was in full control of her wits, even if she did seem a little scatter-brained. He was beginning to think that maybe this was just how muggles acted until that woman had come and he'd caught sight of the look on Lily's face.

"Talk," he directed towards the pretty red-head that was still watching where the pair had disappeared around the corner.

"Over a decade," she mumbled to herself.

"What?" James questioned from behind them. Lily physically shook herself from her thoughts before turning to face the two boys.

"I've known that woman for ten years and she's never said a word to me," Lily replied with irritation clear in her eyes.

"And?" Sirius questioned, not quite understanding the dynamics of muggle neighbourhood relationships.

"Don't you recognise her?" Lily asked them in disbelief. "She's at the train every year," she added, eyeing both boys. They both shook their heads, suddenly on edge now that magic was in the picture. "That's Eileen Snape," she declared in an exasperated tone.

"That's the greasy bats mother?" Sirius hissed. His whole body tensing at his unwitting proximity to Death Eater sympathisers. After all, he had spent most of his life avoiding that sort of attitude when and where he could.

"Oh, get off it Black, she's married to a muggle, not exactly prime supporters of the Dark Lord," Lily replied in frustration. Sirius shot her a dirty look when she'd reverted to using his last name, a habit she knew annoyed him. He shook his head hard at her ignorance, it really was a disadvantage to be muggleborn these days. He'd known about Eileen Snape's fall from grace for years, longer than he'd even been at Hogwarts. She'd been the horror story of his mother's generation after all. Disowned for loving a muggle by one of the riches families in the country, not exactly something that was kept quiet. His mother had positively cackled every time she'd mentioned it. No matter how many times he'd teased Snape, however, he'd never mentioned his mother. That information wasn't something he'd know if he wasn't a Black, and any association with his family was meant to be avoided.

"Oh, shove off Evans, you said yourself you've never even spoke to her," Sirius spat back, thoroughly annoyed by the redhead's skewed perception.

"Oi," James cut in, trying his best to keep peace between the hot-headed pair. Sirius rolled his eyes at his friend's obvious agenda, he'd preferred it when James's had liked to rile the girl, at least then they'd been on the same side. All this sucking up was positively nauseating.

"I just don't understand," Lily muttered to herself, completely ignoring the boys. "Why this girl? Why now?" she continued finally turning to face them.

"Well that's just something we'll always have to wonder about," Sirius replied sardonically as he pushed as much apathy he could manage into his expression. His grey eyes, so seldom dim, were marred with an edge that was directed at Lily. He moved to stalk towards the tree line, so he could apparate away without the worry of a slap on the wrist from some ministry obliviator.

"Wait!" Lily called after him. "Aren't you worried about the girl?" She questioned.

"Did you see her?" Sirius demanded. "The poor girl is half scatty, as far as I could see the Snape's were making sure she didn't hurt herself," he added with an exasperated wave of his hand. "You heard the old crow, we're harassing 'defenceless' woman," he quoted bitterly. As much as he hated to admit it, it seemed the Snape's were genuinely trying to help the girl, especially after seeing how protective Snape's mother was today. It was strange to even consider Severus Snape as helpful but with his mother's concern he could have been scaring that man off yesterday to impress his dear old mom.

"You're kidding right. You, Sirius Black, are suddenly deciding that Snape is a good person?" Lily accused, pushing a button that she knew he wouldn't be able to resist.

"No, Lily Evans, I think he's a twat, but we're not here because of that girl," Black declared, finally releasing the real source of his irritation. "We're here because you're clearly still wondering what your old friend is up to," he countered harshly. Lily opened her mouth to fire a quick rejoinder but froze when the meaning of his words finally sunk in. Sirius spared a look towards his best friend who was studying Lily's hesitant reaction carefully, as if this was a theory that had already been floating around his mind.

"Merlin Lily, it's Christmas Week and here we are waiting around some muggle park for a glimpse of the prat," he continued relentlessly. "Just because at one point you've seen good in someone doesn't mean you can hold onto it forever, no matter if he happens to help some crazed muggle, which by the way was one hundred percent on the direction of his mother. Some things are simply black and white," He finished, stalking off into the trees without waiting for her reply. A moment passed where Lily just stared after the dark-haired boy, no one had ever been that blunt with her about her friendship with Snape and she had to admit that the honesty stung more than a little.

"Lily," James summoned her from her thoughts gently. She peered up at him though the thick hair that had fallen from behind her ears to hide her face. He stuck out a big hand in her direction with a small smile that impressed her greatly. Only last year he'd have been following Black in a temper, completely ignoring every attempt at reason. Now, he just stood with the patience of a saint. "Let's go back to mine, maybe leave this here," he said gesturing off into the direction that Eileen and Luna had disappeared.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to regain the composure that she had lost. With one last look backwards, she shook her head and reached out to grab James's hand and allow him to pull her forward.

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

"Forget it," James said. "Let's just forget all of this," he added as they made to follow Sirius. Lily knew then that he wasn't just taking about the morning they'd had.

…

Severus lifted the girl up the steps with a fiery expression on his face. He shouldn't have left her room without an alarm on the door. She was clearly unstable and had obviously shared an encounter with his less than pleasant father. The predictability of the past was making him let down his guard. He sighed at how light she was in his arms, the last year hadn't been kind to her health. His mother awkwardly pushed ahead of him to open the bedroom door. He placed her on the bed gently, he needn't have bothered, there was nothing in the world that could wake the weak girl from her slumber at this stage. He reached down to heal her bloody feet but was stopped by his mother's firm grip on his wrist.

"I'll do that," she said gently, that was just her way, firm but caring. He sighed but nodded his head in agreement anyway. He'd been too laid back with his supervision of the girl, when he'd seen his mother practically carrying her home he was ashamed to admit that he hadn't even known she was missing. What would Albus think of him now?

"Could you-," He started but his mother cut him off.

"I'll change her clothes too," she confirmed, sometimes Severus thought his knack for Legilimency came from his mother. Seeing her now, so full of life, not yet completely ruined by his father, pierced a part of his soul that he'd long since tidied away.

"Thank you," he intoned softly before turning to leave.

"Severus," his mother called after him in that tone that all mothers develop naturally, the tone that somehow said, _'How could you possibly think you're getting away with that?_ '.

"This girl, you obviously care about her," she pressed as she cleaned the girl in questions filthy hair with a few well-placed charms.

"Mother-," Severus began but once again his intuitive mother cut him off.

"That wasn't a question," she replied before pausing. This was what she always did, stated something and then let silence take over, it usually forced the other person to fill the awkwardness with inane chatter, giving away more than they should. He'd used the technique on more than a few students as a teacher.

"She's my responsibility," he confirmed.

"I see," she responded. "Well she can't stay here; this morning was proof enough that your father's behaviour isn't exactly what she needs at the moment," she stated firmly.

"And what does she need?" He questioned before he could help himself.

"To heal from whatever hell you've managed to pull her from. Don't think I don't recognise Lord Lestrange's blade mark on her arm," she countered sharply. "I was pureblood once you know," she reminded him with a humourless smile that didn't reach her eyes. It amused him that she considered her blood status in the past tense, as if it were a transient expression, when he thought about it though it didn't seem strange at all. "What's your plan?" She continued briskly.

"My plan?" He asked.

"I know you have one, it's not in you not to," she replied as she conjured a bucket of water and cloth into his existence before beginning to clean Hermione's face.

"Hogwarts," he replied briefly. The only reaction to his declaration she had was a small pause to her ministrations before continuing as normally.

"Would Lestrange recognise her?" She asked suddenly.

"No," he replied, knowing better than to question why she'd asked. He'd know when he needed to.

"It seems we have planning to do," she replied with a grim expression as she rang out the cloth into the bucket.

 **Please Please Please review, you guys are awesome. I had a bit of trouble with character development with this chapter so I'm desperate for your opinions.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks so much for all the kind reviews, you all are awesome. Thanks to Kindering, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, KyloRen'sgirl213, ninaaaaa, Shola2001, HGranger89, windyshoes, Smithback, Saamon-sama and Zadria Cerulean for all the encouragement. I really really appreciate it.**

"For it is in giving that we receive." - Saint Francis of Assisi

Chapter 5

Hermione woke up groggily with a pain in her head that she usually associated with spending too much time in bed. It took her a moment to register her surroundings but when she realised that she was back in Spinner's End she couldn't help the sigh of disappointment that escaped her. For a moment she thought that if she rolled over she'd be able to spot Harry's feet from where his bed just about poked into her room in the tent. She knew he'd moved the bed forward deliberately, as a way of expressing that he was always around when she had nightmares, just as she was for him. She missed him more than she missed anyone, even Ron. He'd been a constant in her life for so long, a person that no matter what would be there for her. A fact that was by no means trivial in a world held bent on eradicating her race. Ron could have been her husband, but Harry was her family and no matter how much she fought with Ron or fell out with the Weasleys, he'd always be there for her.

She turned on to her side to look out the window, there was a small crack in the curtain that she could just about make out the front disordered garden of the Snape's. Some movement caught her eye and she forced herself to focus her gaze. Sighing in irritation she just about made out the blonde pigtails of a young girl that was becoming more of a problem that she'd like to admit. The small girl was perched hesitantly on the low stone wall that surrounded the garden staring up. Hermione didn't have to be the genius she was to know the girl was waiting for her. Growling she raised herself from her prone position and pulled on a jumper that was laid across the bottom of the bed. Belatedly she realised that she was dressed in a fresh pair of clothes, with a sigh she hoped that it had been Eileen that had dressed her and not her potions professor. That would have just been the icing on the cake to this miserable trip to the past.

Pulling the bedroom door open she hurried down the stairs and pulled on her trainers that were conveniently placed near the front door. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the front door and was about to step outside when a deep voice spoke from behind her.

"Going somewhere?" Severus questioned. She turned quickly and placed her hand on her chest in an attempt to steady her racing heart, her nerves were fried enough without another fright.

"Just for second, Sir," she replied briefly, not meeting his eyes.

"My mother told me what happened this morning," Snape stated in a cold tone. Suddenly she felt as if she was eleven years old sitting in the dreary potions classroom. "How could you be so careless?" He questioned harshly. She began to fidget with a fraying thread that hung from her borrowed jumper, not able to formulate an appropriate response. After all, she had been careless and there was no excuse. She heard Snape release some of the tension with a sigh of irritation. "We have things to discuss," he tried again, obviously having reigned in his temper. She saw him gesture towards the kitchen out of the corner of her eye.

"Sir, I just need to step outside for a minute," she muttered quietly. Her confidence had all but left her to be replaced with raw shame at her actions. She finally raised her gaze to take in his fiery expression. His dark eyes were assessing her critically and she knew then and there that he thought her unstable. She wondered briefly if he was right. Had this war stripped her of the thing she liked most about herself, her reasoning?

"Five minutes Miss Granger, then I start to follow," he retorted with a serious look. She nodded before turning and stepping out into the cold evening air.

Immediately Olive's blue eyes found hers and Hermione was surprised to note that tears began to trail down her rosy cheeks. The small girl took a step forward hesitantly, as if unsure how to behave. Shocked Hermione closed the space between them and dropped to her knees in front of the child. Olive's small arms immediately encircled her neck tightly.

"I'm so sorry Luna," she whispered into her bushy hair.

"Hey now, what's this about?" she mumbled as she patted the girl's back, completely out of her depth at this display of emotion. None of her friends had been the hugging kind, Harry had always supressed all the terrible things that had happened to him almost instantaneously.

"They were asking about you, but I swear I didn't say anything," she replied, by now her sobs were almost making her words impossible to comprehend. Hermione couldn't help the anger that bubbled to the surface of her mind at the thought of the three nosy brats that had obviously harassed the poor beleaguered child. With the anger however came worry, why had they been asking about her? Was she already interfering with the timeline? The thought frightened her to her very core, soon there mightn't even be a future to return to if she wasn't careful.

"Shh, don't worry about it, honestly," Hermione soothed in a low tone. She pulled the little girl away from her so she could look her in the eye. "Listen to me, that was not your fault. They shouldn't have put pressure on you like that," she reaffirmed, maintaining eye contact so the girl knew she was being serious.

"My mom says I'm a pest, and I don't want my new friend to think that too," Olive positively howled, as she messily wiped her nose on the sleeve of her worn jumper. Shock flittered though Hermione's system before she recovered from the words.

"Hey, you're not a pest," Hermione replied, immediately feeling guilty for having been annoyed by the girl's presence when she had first woken up. "We're good friends Olive, you and me," she added to comfort her.

"Really?" Olive questioned with flooding eyes.

"Would I tell a lie?" Hermione replied with a small smile.

"Thanks for rescuing me before," Olive whispered as she began to calm down. Suddenly things started to fall into place for Hermione, her stepping in the middle of Sirius and James's inquisition must have made an impression on the little girl who was obviously a little neglected at home. The child's light clothes that didn't suit the weather abruptly didn't seem that unusual anymore.

"Don't mention it," Hermione replied. "Now I have to help my aunt Eileen with the dinner so maybe we can talk later?" she lied, knowing that her five minutes were nearly over and not wanting to frighten the girl by having Snape coming out of the house in a temper.

"Okay," the girl whispered, seeming sad at having to leave the older girl's company.

Hermione watched until the girl was completely out of sight before turning to enter the house once again. Just as she was about to open the door it opened to reveal Severus watching her, from his expression it was clear that he'd witnessed the whole event. She grew inexplicably nervous under his penetrating gaze.

"Inside," he hissed.

…..

"I don't understand," Hermione muttered as she watched the mother and son that sat on the other side of the kitchen table. She assessed their position mistrustfully, this seemed more like an interview than a discussion.

"Severus has explained that you both wish to attend Hogwarts next year," Eileen began, watching Hermione's reaction to her words carefully. It was clear the girl was being blindsided by the news, her brown eyes were wide, and her thin fame was frozen in disbelief. "This is the most logical method for that to occur," she supplemented gently.

"But-," Hermione began but paused when she noted the fierce look that was floating in Severus's eyes. Her gaze darted down to her now fidgeting hands.

"Luna Prince, it suits you," Eileen continued, trying her best to ignore how much the traumatised girl deferred to her son. She'd never intended to raise him to be domineering or controlling. She hoped that it was respect and not fear that was making the girl hold her tongue.

"Won't your family have questions?" Hermione asked in a quiet tone.

"All dead, that's what tends to happen when you interbreed too much," Eileen responded wryly, somehow managing to exclude any humour from her obvious disparagement of the wizardry class system. "The worth of the family remains in a bank somewhere in the south of France, waiting to be collected by some undiscovered extended family that haven't manged to disown themselves," she explained. "The odds of anyone managing to qualify are slim to none. Your appearance, waiting until you're of age to try and reclaim it, is a perfect cover. The blood status should protect you too," she persisted, the subject of her family had never been one that she wished to dwell on, evoking emotion was never a pastime for Eileen Snape.

"We'd be cousins," Hermione stated, watching her professor's response to her words, as usual however he was difficult to read. He simply nodded curtly at her words. "Are you sure?" She asked before she could help herself, she winced expecting firm castigation for her insolence. They both knew she wasn't just talking about her name change, but his insistence in attending Hogwarts. She was questioning his ability to lead, and she knew it annoyed him.

"Positive," he replied shortly. The curt answer had her once again lifting her head to watch the man that was clearly reigning in his temper for her sake, his control worried her. She must seem exceptionally crazy if even Professor Snape was being careful with her mental state. She just nodded and returned to inspecting her hands.

"I'll contact the Headmaster before the day is out," Eileen informed them in her _no-nonsense_ tone that declared the matter settled. She stood from her chair and smoothed out her black dress that, despite its worn appearance, projected an intangible sense of elegance that described the woman herself perfectly. "The dinner will be ready in five minutes Luna," she mentioned, testing out the name she assumed to be false. "You'll be eating it," she ordered, unlike Molly Weasley it wasn't an imposed maternal instinct that pushed her to insist but a practicality that seemed to resonate with Hermione in a positive way. She liked when things were clear cut.

Severus and Hermione sat in silence as Eileen plated the food meticulously. It didn't escape her notice that the older woman worked without any magic, nor was the fourth plate she filled and left in the oven missed. The relationship Eileen shared with Tobias completely eluded Hermione's understanding. There was love in this house, that much was obvious. She watched as a plate was placed in front of her filled with vegetables and a little chicken. She couldn't help the lump that gathered at the back of her throat at the simple gesture.

"Well don't wait on ceremony," Eileen said as she sat down with her own plate. Hermione reached for her fork and began to eat the first home cooked meal she'd had since before the chaos of the last few months had begun, back when the horcrux hunt was still an adventure in her mind and not a trauma. It took a while for the lump in her throat to disappear completely, but she didn't mind all that much. It felt good to sit, even in silence, with a few people who understood that perhaps she wasn't doing so well today, and maybe that that was okay.

….

The Potter's Christmas Eve annual dinner was, as per usual, filled with chatter and boisterous laughter, aided by the fact that Sirius Black was spending the holidays at the manor. James watched as his grandfather supped on his favourite muggle whiskey while regaling his parents and granduncle with a story highlighting a previous minister's incompetence. It seemed to be hilarious, if the laughter was anything to go by, James however wasn't listening. He was far too distracted with the conflicting thoughts whizzing around his mind. There was no doubt that Lily Evans confused and enticed him more than any human being ever had.

James was rudely ejected from his thoughts by the rough kick into his shin that had been delivered from across the table. He jumped slightly before sending a glare in Sirius's direction who was far too innocently moving a carrot from one side of his plate to the other.

"Well Boy, what's got you so jittery?" His grandfather, Henry, called from the top of the table when he noticed his sudden movement.

"Nothing Grandad," James replied, trying his best to return the kick under the table. Sirius however, had foreseen the retaliation and had shoved his legs under his chair for protection.

"It must be thoughts of a certain flower," Sirius replied with a smirk.

"What's this? Got your eye on a girl?" His father, Fleamont asked, having caught on to his friend's teasing.

"No," James replied too quickly, his cheeks were by now blazing red. It wasn't that he had never had a girlfriend before, at Hogwarts he could even be considered something of a lady's man. He just never liked to take those stories back home with him, especially when the extended family were around.

"Oh, I know that look," his grandfather pressed with a wry smirk. "Now tell me-," he attempted, enjoying the colour on James's face. Mortification after all, was the strict discipline of every grandparent when the chance presented itself, especially in matters pertaining to the heart.

"Did I tell you I ran into Dumbledore at the apothecary today," his mother Euphemia, interrupted, perhaps taking pity on her son.

"In Diagon Alley? I would have thought he'd be loyal to Smyth's in Hogsmeade," his granduncle Charles asked. 'Good old Charles,' James thought with a small smile. Any mention of the politics of potions and the conversation was lost for a good twenty minutes.

"He had some interesting news actually," Euphemia continued. "It seems a Prince is to attend Hogwarts," she divulged with a conspiring look in her eyes that she reserved for especially stimulating gossip.

"The Prince of what?" James asked, completely perplexed. He noticed Sirius place his head in the palm of his hand in exasperation at his words.

"It's an old family name _you horse's ass_ ," Sirius replied making sure the last part was low enough that only he heard it. He sent a glare in the direction of his friend, but even he had to admit that his mistake was somewhat amusing.

"I thought all of those heirs had died out, well, all the legitimate ones anyway?" Fleamont asked with confusion laced in his tone. "They stopped attending Hogwarts anyway, preferring Beauxbatons. It seems we were all too hum drum," he joked with a faux offended tone to emphasis the preposterous reasoning.

"Well it seems one managed to avoid the papers. They may not have been one of the twenty-eight but from what I remember they were sitting on quite the fortune when they relocated," Euphemia commented as she reached for the salt positioned at the centre of the table.

"No doubt he'll be reclaiming the family's seat in the Wizengamot," Henry chipped in with a derisive roll of his eyes.

" _She_ ," Euphemia corrected with a smirk.

"Same difference," Henry replied sullenly.

"Oh, come now Henry, the girl is living with her aunt who's married to a muggle. That's not exactly a situation which breeds contempt for the lower classes," Euphemia argued lightly.

"You're not talking about Eileen, are you?" Fleamont asked with a disgruntled look in his wife's direction. Euphemia only nodded, seeming to share her husbands outrage. "She was in my year at Hogwarts, if you ask me it was a disgrace they removed her from that tree," he expanded with a shake of his head. "And now she's taken in the heir? Talk about taking the higher road," he finished as he reached for a bread roll.

"It should make for an interesting Profit article anyway," Henry contributed with a grunt of amusement. There were a few nods of agreement at that statement, it was no secret that there had been a serious decrease in the legitimacy of facts found in the national paper with the change in political climate that had been transpiring over the last few years.

"I just can't wait to tell Grace Abbott before the news breaks," Euphemia commented after a moment of silence. "For the life of me I just can't remember the child's name," she continued with a frustrated shake of her head. "Laura, Lana, Lani… it was something beginning with 'L' anyway," she perused quietly.

"Luna," Sirius supplied to everyone's confusion. "Luna Prince," he concluded. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle seemed to click together in James's mind. Yesterday's events abruptly didn't seem as mysterious at they had all day.

"Wait a minute, you mean that half-cocked girl from yesterday is Snivellus's cousin?" James asked completely aghast. He could feel the eyes of the table turn to examine him after his outburst.

"Snivellus?" Euphemia asked.

"Severus Snape," Sirius supplied as he took a bite of his beef dinner, seemingly unaffected by the revelation. James wished he could play a situation that coolly.

"I hope you're not teasing anyone," Fleamont demanded. James shook his head, not willing to meet his father's eyes. Bullying was a sore subject for the man, James's mother had once told him that his father's talent in duelling had been a necessary education. On closer inspection this fact wasn't particularly surprising, considering his first name was Fleamont after all.

"Snape's a neighbour of Marlene's friend Lily," James answered succinctly in an attempt to distract his father.

"A flower, eh?" Henry asked with a smirk, obviously referencing to Sirius's earlier taunt. James's cheeks began to burn once more at the attention.

"What was she like?" Euphemia asked.

"Who?" James asked, already thrown by his grandfather's inquisition.

"The Prince girl of course, who else would I have been talking about," Euphemia confirmed with a knowing smile.

"Mental," Sirius interrupted before James even had the chance to formulate a response.

"Sirius," Fleamont warned lightly.

"I'm only telling the truth Mr Potter," Sirius defended.

"Perhaps you just didn't understand her," Euphemia teased.

"Sirius isn't exactly inaccurate," James added, not liking that he was agreeing with the person that had inadvertently started this conversation.

"Off her rocker," Sirius settled, feeling vindicated with James's assessment.

"So, I take it Miss Prince won't be joining the first years?" Fleamont concluded.

"She looked about our age," James retorted after swallowing a large bite of his dinner, which was now going cold, a sign of stimulating conversation.

"So, Eileen had a child? Well good for her. Snape," Fleamont mused to himself. "I must look out for the kid, see if I can give him a helping hand once he graduates. Any interest in Potions?" he pressed eyeing the two despondent boys at the end of the table. James sighed heavily, that was all he needed, Snape joining the family business.

….

Hermione sighed as she let herself come to a stop on the swing that had swiftly become her favourite place in the small neighbourhood to lose herself in her thoughts. The problem was that she was beginning to grow irritated with losing herself in her own miserable feelings, her own company was starting to grow tiresome, especially on that particular evening. She hadn't ever spent Christmas Eve by herself, even during the hunt she'd been with Harry. It wasn't that they'd had the time to celebrate but at least they'd been together. She wondered briefly if he'd be as downhearted without her as she clearly was without him, then a wave of guilt settled on her shoulders. She should want him to feel happy, not drag him down.

"Thinking hard Miss Granger?" Snape's low voice cut through her thoughts. She jumped at the sudden sound in the otherwise silent playground and quickly reprimanded herself for not noticing his presence sooner.

"Merlin," she exhaled loudly as she released the tension his sudden appearance had brought her.

"Not quite," he stated sardonically as he moved to sit on the other swing beside her, an action that was curiously casual for the man. His long dark winter robes draped over the wood, stirring a conflicting image of childhood meets adulthood in her head.

"Sorry Sir," she replied half-heartedly. A silence descended around them as they both looked out on the estate beyond the bleak park's boundaries. Just when Hermione was growing comfortable once more he spoke up and disrupted the silence.

"This trip to Hogwarts will be by no means easy Miss Granger," Snape affirmed clearly.

"I know," she replied unnecessarily. There was no one who needed a warning about _hard times ahead_ less than Hermione Granger. She'd not left them for years. Sometimes she felt that the interlude between dark times was growing narrower and narrower. Her adrenaline practically hadn't stopped pumping since she had jumped off the dragon and into the freezing lake after breaking into Gringotts, everything since then had been pure survival.

"You'll have to put on a face, hide your troubles," he described, something in his tone told Hermione that this was not so foreign a concept to the man. "Behave somewhat normally," he added before taking a deep breath. "Pretend that nothing has happened," he concluded. At those words Hermione lifted her gaze from the sand base of the swing to look at the familiar man that perched on the seat next to her.

"I know," she repeated. His face was unreadable, even in youth he was a complete enigma. He studied her carefully, looking for cracks in her expression.

"What happened to you was not right," he said suddenly, this part of the conversation didn't feel as rehearsed as before. He pushed his long hair out of his eyes, exposing his striking facial features in the process, he was by no means a handsome man but there was something strong in his appearance that spoke of his character.

"What is right these days?" Hermione minimised with a flippant nod of her head. Snape shook his head firmly, not breaking eye contact.

"Don't dismiss your troubles Miss Granger," he pressed. "Nothing that happened to you was right," he reaffirmed. Hermione paused for a moment and tried to absorb what he was telling her. It was strange to hear such confidence come from a teenage body. There were plenty of aspects of Severus that were similar to the potions professor, the way he carried himself, the way he dressed and even the rigidness that accompanied all of his mannerisms. His dark eyes were just as closed off as before but there was a relatability that she saw in his stance that hadn't been there in the future, weather seeing it now was due to his change in form or her own emotional growth she couldn't say but it confused her none the less. It troubled her that she was beginning to separate the Headmaster of Hogwarts from the man that calmed her after her nightmares.

"Dismissing is coping Sir," she clarified lightly. He stared at her for another moment before breaking their eye contact. Reaching into the inside of his robes he withdrew a worn book from his inside pocket. She stared at it for a moment before a frown creased her face at its familiarity.

" _Babbitty Rabbitty_ , Sir?" Hermione questioned incredulously. Even saying those two words around the taciturn man was ridiculous enough.

"The only children's book I possess Miss Granger," Snape confirmed steadily. His big hands covered most of the front cover but still memories of reading the tale to Harry flooded her mind.

"Sir?" Hermione pressed after a brief pause in which Snape delayed his explanation.

"Did you ever wonder Miss Granger, why this out of all the setbacks you've had, has managed to unsettle you the strongest?" He questioned as his eyes watched a red car slowly make its way past the park, the driver obviously cautious of the icy roads. "Out of all the hardships you've faced in the last seven years? If I'm to believe the stories told by the Headmaster this isn't even the first encounter you've had of time travelling," he continued, letting an ounce of derision mar his tone for a moment.

"I imagine it's that I've allowed myself the time to process the last year, Sir," she responded evenly, her mind not liking the direction he was taking the conversation in.

"So, you believe that if you were home that you'd be feeling the same?" He asked, it seemed as if he wanted her to come to her own conclusion to their discussion, a tool that was helpful in teaching but frustrating when used out of context. She pondered his query for a moment, allowing herself to fully entertain his insinuation. If she were home, she'd probably be doing her best to comfort the Weasley family after the tragic loss of Fred. _Fred_. The thought of the fun-loving twin alone was enough to set her on edge. His death seemed so far away where she was, almost as if it had been one horrible nightmare. It seemed important to her in that moment to remember every detail of his demise, in case her mind ever tried to convince her that it was illusory.

"I can't just control how I feel," she replied feeling perturbed by her obvious issues.

"Just answer the question Miss Granger," Snape requested curtly, as if he were asking what the main ingredients to the Dreamless Sleep potion were, and not about the trauma that was filling her mind day by day.

"I'd have to help, there's no way I could fall apart," Hermione replied bluntly. Part of her wished she had that motivation right now but another, perhaps more truthful, part of herself was tempted by the idea of allowing herself to fall apart, to have no one depending on her. There was a freedom and a piercing loneliness in the idea. Abruptly Snape pushed the book into her hands that had been resting in her lap.

"She'd been watching you for the last two hours wondering whether she should approach you," Snape commented, the sudden change in topic had Hermione lift her gaze from the book cover to study his face. She followed his eyeline out of the park and down the street until she spotted little Olive lounging around on one of the red brick walls playing with a ball by herself. "Odd that she should be by herself on Christmas Eve," Snape remarked in a tone that said he didn't think it was odd at all, in fact it sounded like he knew exactly why Olive was sitting out in the cold.

With that last observation he stood and began his track back to the house, robes billowing behind him in the cold winter wind. Hermione watched him for a moment before a small smile grew on her face. With a sigh, that was more of a surprised amusement, she stood and made her way over towards Olive with the book clutched in her hand. She watched as the little girl's eyes lit up when she noticed the direction Hermione was walking.

"Feeling up for a story?" Hermione asked, lifting the book in a way of explanation. Hermione had to admit that the way the gloom drained away from the girl's face to be replaced with a big toothy smile did shift something in her heart.

 **Please Please Please Review, you guys are awesome**. **I know it's a little slow, but I promise it will pick up. Any comments are very welcome.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks so much for all the reviews, you guys are so awesome! Just a little explanation for how late I was in replying to all of them, there was a glitch on fanfiction where I could see that the review counter was growing but couldn't actually see the reviews, the anticipation nearly killed me :P. It was fixed last night and as a little celebration here is the next chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it.**

 **Thanks to Zadria Cerulean, smithback, Kindering, whiteroses1743, ninaaaaa, Artemis Decibal, HGranger89, Shola2001, slythrclw-shdwhntr-46 and guests. I very much appreciate your support, this chapter is for you guys.**

"Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, she became a butterfly." - Barbara Haines Howett

 **Chapter 6**

Hermione watched with bated breath from the window in the bedroom that she had sequestered from the Snape's for the juration of the Christmas holidays. She had been in the kitchen peeling potatoes the muggle way with Eileen, it had been soothing in its monotony. Eileen had been telling her about the neighbourhood in general, from the closest shops to which schools were in the area, when they had heard a loud knock on the door that echoed through the house. Severus, who had been sitting at the kitchen table perusing a book with a causal disinterest, froze at the sound.

" _That girl's really taken a shine to you," Eileen commented as she began to fill the heavy potato saucepan with water. She was, of course, referring to Olive, who had just a few days ago gained enough confidence to begin knocking on the Snape's door for Hermione's company. Initially her actions had shocked Hermione, but eventually her antics had begun to amuse her. Reading to Olive had become a major hobby for her and had, much to her relief, introduced a welcome distraction from her current situation. Olive had even persuaded Hermione to take out a local library card, so she could read any fairy-tale she wanted, now that she knew Babbitty Rabbitty off by heart._

 _"Sorry about this," Hermione muttered as she dried her hands on the tea towel that rested near the sink. Eileen just smiled in response, letting her know that she wasn't annoyed by the little girl's enthusiasm. She nodded at Snape before making her way out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the front door. She paused momentarily and began to prepare herself for the girl's bubbly nature, taking a deep breath she tried to manufacture the happy persona she wore around the child that eventually became real. She hoped one day that she wouldn't have to pretend initially, that it would just be natural, and she wouldn't feel like so much of an imposter. Shaking her head, she pulled the door open wearing a big smile._

 _"I wasn't expecting you un-," she began but shut her mouth when her brain registered that it wasn't Olive outside but two tall men, two very familiar tall men. Lucius Malfoy and Rodolophus Lestrange hadn't changed much in the twenty years (or a few weeks, time travel was a funny thing) since she had last seen them. Both were tall imposing figures that made her blood run cold. Instantly her wand was in her hand under the cover of her long shirt sleeves. "Can I help you?" She asked, trying her best to keep her voice level. Both men appeared more than a little shocked at her presence in the house. She watched as Malfoy sent an amused look in Rodolophus's direction before addressing her with deliberate arrogance. Obviously, they assumed her to be a muggle labourer of some sort, not a great surprise when she was wearing a mismatch of muggle clothes._

 _"We're looking for Severus Snape?" Lucius replied curtly. His voice must have travelled in the house for, before he'd shut his mouth Snape was in the hall and walking up behind Hermione. She could hear his heavy footsteps and watched as one of his hands come to rest underneath hers to lean on the doorframe. It might have looked like a causal gesture to the untrained eye, but she was well versed in how devious the reserved man could be when he was acting altruistically. He was just letting her know he was right behind her, not to panic._

 _"Lucius, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Severus asked, his voice coated in false revere._

 _"We haven't heard from you in quite some time Severus, we were beginning to fear for your health," Rodolophus said lightly, but Hermione didn't miss the narrowing of Lucius's eyes as he studied Snape carefully._

 _"My sincerest apologies, I've unfortunately had a few matters to clear up the last few days," Snape explained, Hermione could practically hear the contrite expression that must have littered his face. It was strange to hear him try to ingratiate himself to anyone, Severus Snape hadn't even let Dumbledore's reputation stop him from behaving scathingly most of the time. She felt Severus grab her wrist tightly, she jumped at the sudden touch, her body already wracked with tension. She turned her face to look him in the eye, which is what she knew he intended, it still pained her to take her gaze off the two men in front of her though. She watched as he nodded towards the stairs by the door with an order clearly outlined in his eyes._

 _"I'll be upstairs," Hermione muttered, without turning to face the two men again. She didn't need to see them again to remember their faces._

 _"Why don't we take this discussion outside," she heard Snape suggest before she'd reached her bedroom door._

She'd climbed the stairs at a sedated pace but the second she entered the protection of the room she'd run to the window and that's where she was now. Watching as Snape, in a muggle jumper and worn jeans began to talk with the imposing men in long cloaks, who looked around at the muggle neighbourhood in obvious disgust. Discreetly she cast an eavesdropping charm, which she had learned from the Weasley twins, on the trio from her place at the window. Kneeling she rested underneath the ledge, not daring to look out fully. She pressed her wand to her ear, which was projecting the sound, and listened carefully.

"Well now I know why you didn't reply, got yourself a muggle whore Severus?" Lucius asked in a mocking tone.

"Not quite," Snape replied, the cold smirk he wore when he responded to Lucius made Hermione's blood run cold. She had to remind herself firmly that he was acting, this was the man that loved Lily Evans for twenty years, not exactly the type to appreciate such degrading remarks. "She's a Prince," Snape added casually. The expressions of thinly veiled disgust quickly fell from the faces of the two men to be replaced with keen interest.

"Disowned?" Rodolophus questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Waiting to claim the fortune," Snape replied bluntly. Hermione was beginning to recognise the nature of the Slytherins, Snape was definitely playing his cards nonchalantly. Rodolophus let out a low whistle at the revelation.

"No wonder you've been a busy boy, getting close with the rich bitch," Rodolophus commented lightly.

"When does she turn seventeen to confirm?" Lucius inquired, getting down to business straight away.

"It's based in France, so she'll have to wait until she's eighteen but sometime in the middle of seventh year. I've already cast a few charms though," Snape reported diligently. He was the very image of calm as he smirked at the two men.

"Well done Snape," Lucius finally conceded. "If this gets out you'll start to have competition," he warned. It was strange to see Lucius acting as a leader again, the final year of the war had truly broken the proud man. It was no wonder he's wanted the Dark Lord back, here he was respected and distinguished. He would always be the man that dropped a Horcrux into an eleven-year old's basket in the eyes of Hermione however.

"What do you think I've been doing all Christmas?" Snape asked wryly. Both men laughed at the insinuation, Rodolophus even went so far as to pat him on the back, a very boisterous gesture for the usually reserved man.

"Hogwarts?" Lucius probed. Snape just nodded in response maintaining eye contact all the while. "Make sure she keeps her affections for you up until this is official, then you'll have to marry her quickly before she gets any ideas," he thought aloud with a small smile flittering across his face. " _He_ will be happy with this development, who knows Snape maybe we might skip these little initiations and have you on board before you even graduate," he continued, a proud look shining clearly in his eyes. "I _knew_ I was right about you," he finished.

"Thank you, Lucius," Snape replied. Hermione might even have thought him sincere were it not for how his fist had clenched when he had said it, his only give away. It came as no shock to Hermione that Lucius was responsible for Snape's early recruitment, he was Draco's godfather after all.

"We won't keep you any longer," Lucius replied, his smile twisting into a leer.

"You've got work to do, keeping that girl occupied," Rodolophus confirmed with another hard thump of his hand against Severus's back.

"Believe me, we'll be married the second those funds are released," Snape said in parting as the men made to leave the front garden.

"See you at Hogwarts Severus," Rodolophus commented with a wave of his hand, still grinning from the news. "It'll be fun to see my brother give you a run for your money," he added as an afterthought.

"Until Easter," Lucius remarked. Hermione vaguely remembered that Malfoy was a few years older than Snape. Together the men walked through the estate, thankfully wise enough not to just apparate in clear sight. She heaved a sigh of relief when they'd finally rounded the corner and left her line of sight. Their appearance had stirred something terrible inside her. It was ludicrous she supposed, but she hadn't really pondered the fact that Voldemort was still alive in this time much at all. She turned from the window, thoroughly disturbed, before pushing her back against the wall and sinking fully to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.

Hermione heard Severus's heavy footsteps as he ascended the stairs and even heard when he paused a moment outside the door before he knocked gently. She herself hesitated before calling for him to come in. She couldn't help but feel that the second he entered the room she'd be right back in the middle of the war. Undesirable Number Two reporting for duty, fighting for something so distant and intangible it seemed hopeless. The thought frightened her, Tobias was right, it would have been nice to know her enemy. Fighting against an ingrained mindset was a lot harder than a battle for power, with enough fundamentalism there would always be bloodshed. A person was a lot easier to kill then an idea.

"I'm guessing you heard all of that," Snape questioned, his tone even. She was relieved to hear that there was no shame in his voice, it made it easier to think that the attitude he portrayed was just an act. She nodded once in response, not taking her eyes off the dark blue bed spread that brushed off of her right shoulder. "Good, you'll know to have your guard up next year," he responded succinctly. She nodded again, not quite able to find her words just yet.

"Hermione," he called, summoning her from her involuntary stupor. The sound of her birth name forced her to meet his gaze, it was getting rarer and rarer to hear it spoken aloud recently. Apart from the occasional _Miss Granger_ traces of who she was were slowly being eradicated. "Listen very carefully to what I am going to tell you," he said, letting a solemn tenor enter his words. Slowly she watched as he let some emotion leak into his eyes, an action that gave him a more vulnerable appearance. If it wasn't for the fact that she knew this was a result of a deliberate manipulation of his Occlumency shields she might have been comforted by the gesture. "This war is not your responsibility, you've fought it once and it is not up to you. Don't let yourself be dragged into this mess," he enunciated each word prudently to drive home his point. She shrugged her shoulders, this to her was obvious.

"I wouldn't risk our chances getting home," Hermione mumbled. Some unrecognisable emotion flittered through Snape's eyes before his shields were up again and she was left at a loss, thinking perhaps she had imagined it. She knew she was being unfair, judiciously ignoring the fact that there was no home for him in the future was cruel. He had died, that much was certain. They had both been there, both witnessed it. If they were to get home, it would be a miracle if he were to spectacularly come to life. What was her life though, if not a series of miracles? She was a witch, had survived an attack by a basilisk, had been granted a time turner just to _study_ , less than a few weeks ago she'd even broken into Gringotts and was still alive to tell the tale. Looking at the man before her, she knew he'd never risk the timeline, not when Lord Voldemort had been defeated against all the odds. The importance of that victory was lost on neither of them.

"I know," Snape mollified gently. "Now I think it's been too long since our last Occlumency training," he began, completely shifting the topic, much to Hermione's relief. She couldn't help the groan of annoyance leave her at the mention of the horrid lessons. Nonetheless she began to clear her mind, all too happy to distance herself from the unexpected visit.

…

"No," Marlene murmured, completely aghast. "He has a cousin?" She repeated incredulously. She was perched on Lily's bed facing James and Sirius who had just arrived a few minutes ago. They just nodded back, understanding her scepticism completely.

"His mother _is_ Pureblood," Lily reminded from her place by the window. Her red hair was gathered prettily into a bun at the top of her head, giving her a slightly _coryphée_ appearance.

Sirius scoffed at her words. "And he never lets anyone forget it," he muttered to no one in particular. He walked fully into the room and closed the door behind him before grabbing the discarded muggle magazine by Marlene's side and throwing himself onto the bed. Marlene slapped his knee in irritation when she was jostled by his actions, but he just smiled at her charmingly.

"She doesn't exactly scream Pureblood heiress," Lily murmured, not taking her eyes away from the window.

"She out there?" Sirius asked.

"All morning, with that muggle girl," Lily replied, finally shifting her gaze back to the occupants of the room. Her emerald green eyes were dulled, and she looked tired with the beginnings of black bags under her eyes. Sirius wondered briefly how long the red head had been examining the pureblood witch from that position.

"Are we even sure the kids a muggle at this point?" Marlene asked, still reeling from the realisation that Severus Snape had a living wizardry relation. She flopped down on the bed next to Sirius, her long brown hair sprawled over the pillow and Sirius's face. He spluttered as he tried to eject any that had landed in his open mouth before sitting up in the bed. He sent a glare in Marlene's direction who just grinned victoriously back at him, custody of the bed won.

He rose and walked over to stand beside Lily. Curiously he peered out of the window, it took no time at all for him to recognise the loose cannon that was the heiress to the Prince house. He watched as she ran around the park after the little girl who was laughing almost manically as she looked over her shoulder. When the older girl finally caught up with the blonde she caught her under her arms and spun her around before starting to tickle her. They both fell on the grass of the park, completely oblivious to how cold it was out. The blonde had a wide toothy smile covering her face as she handed Prince a book that she'd been carrying. With a smile Prince opened the book and began to read. Sirius couldn't hear from the distance, but it must have been an interesting story from the enraptured expression on the girl's face.

"She would have recognised our robes when we were asking her about Prince," James responded to Marlene's question.

"Prince didn't," Lily countered easily.

"The girl's mad Evans, we couldn't tell anything from her," Sirius answered reasonably, but even he had to admit that from this angle Prince looked remarkably sane. She was still too thin, in his opinion, but there was something elegant about her face. Her small nose and lips were a sharp contrast to her thick hair and gave her an enticing appearance. For a brief moment he was reminded of his cousin Bellatrix, but he shook his head to lose the image. Prince may have seemed bizarre, but he could tell she wasn't hysterical like his dear older cousin was becoming, if the stories he was hearing were true. At least not yet, who knew what a few weeks of only Severus Snape for company could do.

"I bet you all feel foolish for approaching her now," Marlene teased as she fixed the pillow behind her head. Everyone dutifully ignored her comment, their prides still a little wounded from their failed rescue attempt of a perfectly safe girl.

With one last look Lily walked over towards James to plan what they were going to do for the day. Sirius however, found it more difficult to withdraw his gaze. He wondered how long it would take the girl playing with a muggle child outside to become Lady Prince, and how long it would take before she was embarrassed by the memory of reading to the blond girl. If Slytherin got their hands on her they could be at opposite sides of the upcoming war before either of them even noticed. He wondered if he ever had to fight her would this image of a beautiful girl lying in the grass with a big smile on her face flicker through his mind before he cast a curse in her direction. His friends were so naïve, they had no idea what was coming, or how swiftly it was arriving. Sirius however, could feel the shift of power carry in the air, changes were coming whether they liked it or not. When it did, all his friend would see was right and wrong, black and white. They wouldn't see the grey. They wouldn't see the girl lying in the grass.

…..

Severus had been gone all day. For such a quiet man the absence of his presence was peculiarly noticeable. Hermione had wondered around the house all morning, too reluctant to pose any questions to Eileen about his location. It was a Saturday, which meant Tobias was in the sitting room reading the paper and staying out of the way of the cleaning. It might have even seemed like a normal morning if it weren't for the glass of whiskey he had in his hand. When Hermione had returned after spending a few hours with Olive not much had changed. Severus was still absent, Eileen was preparing dinner and Tobias was dozing in the armchair she was beginning to think was universally known to be his. She entered the sitting room with a sigh before sitting on the pull-out bed that had been tidied away in the morning.

When a few minutes had passed Hermione began to come to terms with the fact that she was most definitely bored. She had read the limited collection of books Snape had on his book shelves, beginning to think that the man preferred to rely on the Hogwarts library for his reading material. There was no television in the house, not that she would have enjoyed lazing around and staring at the box all day. For the first time in a long time, she had the time to feel the tedium of day to day living and it was strange. Studying Tobias, who was just a bulkier version of the Severus who had been her potions professor, she noticed the paper that lied on his lap.

Looking around, as if to spot any witnesses she rose from her chair and crept toward the sleeping man whose legs were probed up on the coffee table so that he could recline. Reaching out she lifted the heavy broadsheet from his lap with a practiced ease. She'd always taken the paper from her father when he slept on the coach in the evenings. Feeling a little smug she began to move back towards the couch.

"Leave the sport's section, you can take the entertainment and business ones," Tobias slurred. She whipped back around with an ashamed expression on her face. He stared back at her with heavy lidded eyes that were worn down by exhaustion. He pushed himself to sit up once again, dropping his legs from the coffee table and onto the floor. Dutifully she rooted through the paper and handed him the sports section. He took it without a word and began to open the crinkled paper nosily in front of his face. Taking this as a dismissal she returned to her couch and began to do that same, treating the paper as more of a historical interpretation rather than actual news.

"Heading back to school on Monday?" He asked from behind his paper after a few minutes had passed.

"Yes Sir," Hermione answered minimally, not wanting to get caught in a web of lies of her own creation. A few more minutes passed before he spoke again.

"Are you in the same house as Severus then?" He asked. Hermione was a little shocked that Tobias even knew about the houses, or that he wanted to talk about it when he obviously had issues with magic in the house. The conversation itself was a little ridiculous, their thick papers obscuring each of their faces.

"No Sir," Hermione responded quietly. Tobias made some sort of scoff at that admission. She wished she could study his expression, but then she supposed he wouldn't be asking these questions if she could see him.

"Seems strange when you both spend most of your time with your head in a book," Tobias responded. His northern accent, so unlike his sons added to the strange comment somewhat and Hermione could no longer deny herself the right to smile. "Are you a prefect then too?" Tobias probed. Her smile dwindled a little at the question, obviously the man was keeping tabs on his son. Suddenly the line of questioning didn't seem so amusing. There was no doubt that an insurmountable gap lied between Tobias and his son most likely filled with mistrust, divergence and previous wounds that hadn't healed properly.

"No Sir," she admitted gently.

"Severus had the best grades in his year for his exams," Tobias mentioned. By now the smile had completely fallen from Hermione's face.

"That doesn't surprise me," she replied softly.

"No?" Tobias asked.

"No Sir," she reiterated.

"Nor me," he confirmed, loudly turning the page of the sports section. Somehow, she knew he'd not read anything on the page and was just looking for something to do. "He's always been smart," he mentioned quietly. Hermione didn't respond to that, she honestly didn't know what to say. A few minutes passed before he spoke again. "You surprise me though," he revealed, he kept his voice even though Hermione knew this was the part of the conversation he had really wanted to discuss since he'd woken up to the sight of her stealing his paper, perhaps even longer.

"Sir?" She queried, helping his curiosity along.

"I knew he was smart," he began. "But when I saw how careful he was with you I knew he was kind," he finished. Hermione felt her cheeks begin to redden at the suggestion. She pushed the paper down for the first time in the conversation.

"Severus and I aren't-," she tried but was cut off.

"Doesn't matter," Tobias mumbled, not dropping his paper. "God only knows how, but he's actually turned out okay," he finished, his tone suggesting that this was the end of the conversation. It pained Hermione's heart that Tobias obviously thought himself a hindrance to Snape's development, even more so because it was probably true. Just when she was about to formulate a response the front door clicked open and after a moment Severus walked into the sitting room laden with shopping bags. He took in the presence of his father with clear distain painted on his face, obviously not feeling the need to hide it. Completely ignoring his father, as he always did, Severus gestured towards Hermione to follow him upstairs, inadvertently jostling the bags in the process.

With one last look at Tobias, who had not taken his eyes off the paper or greeted his son in any way, Hermione followed Snape.

…

"How did you get the money for these?" Hermione questioned as she sifted through the books Snape had bought for her NEWT course. Beside the books was a Hogwarts uniform along with some plain robes, just the thought of Severus ordering these from a seamstress was enough to make her smile.

"Don't worry about it," he answered simply. He was studying a book of his own, completely ignoring her as she rooted through the bags.

"Here you are," Eileen said as she carried a trunk into the room. Severus immediately rose from his seat to help his mother with the weight of it. "It's old, but it'll do," she murmured towards Hermione. The trunk was an old design, old even for the seventies, but it was clean, and the wood looked barely scuffed, a hell of a lot better than her trunk had faired travelling between home, The Burrow, Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts for six years. Hermione knew immediately that if this were around in her time it would have been treated as an antique.

"It's perfect, thank you," Hermione responded, touched by the effort and casual charity of the older woman.

"You'll have to stick with the robes if you're to pass for a Prince," Eileen commented, dismissing her gratitude with a wave of her hand. "No more cast offs," she added as she eyed the oversized shirt Hermione had paired with some black stockings.

"Of course," Hermione agreed.

"I have no idea how you've managed to pay for all of this," Eileen said to her son as she eyed up all of the items gathered on the bed. For a strange moment Hermione watched as some apprehension leaked onto Snape's face, a reaction that she was sure not even the Dark Lord had managed to extract from the stoic man. He opened his mouth after a moment but was silenced when Eileen lifted her hand. "I don't want to know, just be careful," she continued as she walked over to help Hermione fold the clothes into the trunk. Snape nodded once in reply before returning to reading his book.

A few hours later Hermione found herself alone in her room. Snape hadn't come upstairs to resume his post by her bed where he read while she fell asleep, a routine she didn't like to study too frequently. Somehow, he always knew when she was having a nightmare and was always there to wake her. Since that first night however she'd not had a panic attack, just thinking about how she'd grabbed onto his arm desperately made her cringe in embarrassment. She was just changing into her pyjamas (which weren't all that different from her day clothes) before she spotted a bag that had been obscured by her books at the top of the bed. The writing sprawled on the side of the bag made it stand out above all the others, clearly it was muggle.

Reaching out with a touch of trepidation she opened the paper handles gently. With a raised eyebrow she removed its contents in confusion. It took her a moment to realise what it was but when she did a large smile broke across her face. The coat was a dark green and looked exceptionally warm, that wasn't the confusing part. What had befuddled her was its small size, it was clearly intended for a little girl, and Hermione knew exactly who. Olive would adore it. She raised her gaze to the door that Severus Snape would come through in a few minutes. Just like his mother, the casual charity was almost bashful. There were so many layers to that man that she didn't ever think she'd know the depth of his character. She needed to remember this moment, when doubt crept into her heart at Hogwarts, she needed to remember how right in this moment she knew he was kind.

 **Thanks so much for reading, please please please review. It really does encourage me.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Many thanks for all the wonderful reviews, special thanks to ninaaaaa, HGranger89, Shola2001, slythrclw-shdwhntr-46, Snaperipper, Zadria Cerulean, frog8590, smithback, saamon-sama and guests. This chapter is most definitely for you wonderful people.**

 _And found myself then thinking: if it were nowadays,  
This is how Death would summon Everyman._

 _Next thing he spoke and I nearly said I loved him._

-Seamus Heaney

Snape 7

Hermione waited at the bottom of the stairs with her borrowed trunk. She was wearing wizardry robes again and found them so much more constrictive than the muggle loose fitting clothes she'd been wearing for the last few weeks. Snape and Eileen were upstairs in his room finishing packing his trunk. However, she knew the two of them well enough to know that it was just their excuse to say goodbye. She sighed as she twisted a button on her expensive winter robes, a gift from Snape. Closing her eyes, she tried to soothe her racing heart. She was dreading seeing Hogwarts again. The last time she'd been on the grounds she'd been surrounded by dead bodies and carnage. At the same time, it felt good to be moving on from the Snape household, time was beginning to stagnate the less they were doing to resolve their situation.

Saying goodbye to Olive had been harder than Hermione had initially considered, the little girl had been blindsided by her sudden departure. The beautiful green coat did little to mollify the loss of her new friend. The only thing that did seem to pacify her was the promise of writing her letters. She'd previously asked Eileen if she could send some letters to the house for Olive and she'd agreed. So, with a heavy heart she'd hugged the girl and left her to swing by herself in the park she'd come to know so well. Looking back, it might even seem that Hermione had never even been there, if it weren't for the green coat which made her life that little bit easier.

"So ye're off then?" Tobias asked, drawing Hermione out of her thoughts suddenly. He was leaning against the doorframe of the sitting room heavily. She was surprised to notice that he was more abstemious than she'd ever seen him in the house.

"Yes Sir," she answered back with a small smile, he had after all, put a roof over her head for the past few weeks. He nodded back and let an awkward silence fall between them.

"Well, best of luck with everything," he said before he shoved off the door frame with a grunt and headed towards the front door, passing Hermione on the way. Before she could help herself, she had reached out and grabbed onto his wrist.

"It's never too late you know, to say you're sorry," Hermione whispered, worried that by some strange turn of luck Severus could hear her. The older man, who's cheeks had developed that perpetual flush that all alcoholics seemed to wear, allowed a small sad smile to grow on his face.

"It's much too late for me Luna," he responded, his voice just as low as Hermione's had been. "Do yourself a favour kid, don't let your past make you into something you don't want to be," he advised with a solemn glint in his dark eyes that were so like his sons. He reached over with his free arm and used his big hand to cover her small one that was still clutching at his wrist. "You're not meant to save everyone love, sometimes you're just meant to be there through it all," he murmured before squeezing her fingers and extracting himself from her grip. With one more nod of his head he opened the door and left the house. Hermione wondered if that was the last time she'd ever see the man, from his words he obviously seemed to think so.

A few minutes passed before Severus and Eileen came down the stairs to meet her. They both looked solemn and Hermione had no doubt that Eileen had just given her son a few warnings for the upcoming year. She was no fool, she knew what was to come.

"Are you sure you're alright to apparate Luna," the older woman asked. She'd been doing that a lot recently, using her pseudonym at the end of every sentence, as if to ready her for having to answer to it.

"Positive," Hermione responded with a small smile. She reached down and grabbed the handle of her trunk. "We ready?" she posed to them.

"I think it might be better if I don't come to the train," Eileen said gently, her greying hair was pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head reminding Hermione slightly of Minerva McGonagall.

"Why?" Hermione queried with bemusement clear in her voice.

"I won't exactly help the air of superiority you need to exude as the heiress to the Prince fortune," Eileen responded clearly. It was obvious from her tone that she wasn't being bashful, this was practicality speaking, something Hermione could respect. "I wouldn't want whatever protection the title gives you to be wasted," she added with a small smile.

"So, this is goodbye then?" Hermione asked, not liking the way her voice shook at the idea.

"It's been a pleasure," Eileen murmured, her eyes warm and open. Not being able to help herself Hermione reached over and pulled the older woman into a tight embrace. Eileen stiffened for a moment at the sudden contact before adjusting and patting her lightly on the back.

"Thanks for everything," Hermione mumbled into her shoulder. She pulled away and leaned down towards her trunk once more, wanting to give the mother and son a private moment.

Eileen turned to her son with a small smile. "Stay out of trouble," she ordered but there was something kind in her tone, as if she was really telling him that she loved him. Before she could stop him, he reached out and placed an envelope in her hand.

"Take care of yourself mum," he muttered, before he withdrew his hand she watched as he squeezed hers gently. It was so strange to hear the revered man call anyone by such an informal title, Hermione found herself looking at him in a whole new light, he was someone's son. He nodded in her direction and she knew then that he wanted to leave immediately before the woman protested to his gift, which she presumed was filled with the money he'd mysteriously come across. With one last sad look at Eileen she apparated from the house, doubting she'd ever return.

…..

The platform was flooded with people, irritating Sirius to no end. It was even growing difficult for him to lug his trunk through the crowds. He wanted to get inside the train as fast as he could, so he didn't accidently bump into his parents dropping off his little brother. James was however, making this process difficult by lagging behind with his parents. Eventually Sirius gave up his hurried pace with an exasperated sigh and decided to stand by the Potters for a few minutes.

"To the right," James was mumbling to his father. "By the floo," he added, looking in the opposite direction himself to avoid suspicion. Sirius followed the direction along with Fleamont and searched the crowd, it took a moment for him to spot the topic of conversation until his eyes settled on her. He almost didn't recognise her, gone was her wild hair and eccentric muggle clothes to be replaced with tamed wavy locks and fitting dark robes. Luna Prince was the vision of a pureblood aristocrat. If it weren't for the uncomfortable look painted on her face as she looked out on the crowds between her and the train, she could have passed for a Black. He watched as she spotted Snape walking towards her and heaved a sigh of relief. It was strange for Sirius to see anyone look at Snape's presence as soothing. He noticed his school nemesis place a hand near the small of her back and guide her to the train. It might have looked like a caring gesture if he hadn't noticed how nervous Prince had been before his arrival.

"She looks the part," Fleamont muttered under his breath.

"She cleans up alright," James agreed as he tugged on his trunk roughly to free it from some uneven concrete. Sirius only nodded along with the conversation. Fleamont turned his attention to his wife to explain what had captured his interest. Euphemia looked delighted at the news and began to search the crowds, but it was all in vain for the girl and her bodyguard had already entered the train.

"Do be nice James, she might turn out to be lovely," Euphemia declared before passing her gaze over to the other child she had recently become responsible for. "You too Sirius," she ordered with narrowed eyes, perhaps knowing his disposition too well.

"When am I ever not nice Mrs Potter?" Sirius asked with a cheeky smile. She just rolled her eyes in response, not taken in by his charm. "You ready?" He asked James, his anxiety at the prospect of an encounter with his parents was growing more than he'd ever care to admit.

"Sure Pads," James replied before giving his parents swift hugs and gesturing for him to lead the way.

"What? No goodbye?" Euphemia asked Sirius as he began to walk away without so much as a parting glance. He turned, looking slightly bashful, and reached over to hug her lightly. This kind of contact didn't exactly come naturally to him. He clasped Fleamont's hand in a tight handshake with a smile.

"Thanks for everything," he said, losing his joking persona to express, if just for a moment, how seriously he appreciated their help.

"It's been a pleasure. We'll see you both in the summer," she said. It didn't escape Sirius's notice that she had included him in the summer plans. That was just Euphemia's way, she'd never have embarrassed him by making him ask. The disparity between her and his mother was at times startling and sometimes it left him reeling. He'd never known that you could grow up to be kind and uninhibited by society's pureblood expectations until he'd arrived at Hogwarts.

Sirius followed James onto train and they spent a few minutes trying to locate Remus and Peter amongst the chaos that was the Hogwarts Express. Soon they gave up and took the next free compartment they could find. The train was moving before Remus and Peter burst through the door.

"You'll never guess who I just saw," Remus said as he slumped into the seat next to James. His face was alight with challenge.

"Crazy bint from the park?" Sirius guessed with a raised eyebrow. Remus's face fell, and he rolled his eyes at the answer before hopping up and helping Peter who was having trouble fitting his truck into the above compartment.

"I take it you spotted her before I did?" He stated more than asked.

"She's old news mate. Snape's her cousin," James filled him in with a grin.

"Snape has a cousin?" Remus asked incredulously.

"Contrary to popular opinion, he wasn't actually hatched," James replied, before launching into a full account of the information they'd managed to gather from his parents. Sirius watched on, the topic of Luna Prince beginning to grate on his nerves.

…

Hermione watched as Snape cast a quick locking charm on the compartment door before he lifted her trunk to stow it above their heads. He lifted his own onto the table and opened it, withdrawing two books without bias. He handed one to her without even raising his eyes to meet her gaze. It was the Herbology textbook she'd be studying from for the foreseeable future. She took it, grateful for the distraction. It had been a while since she'd been in a crowd as large as on the platform and though she hated to admit it, it had unsettled her greatly. She'd spied Remus Lupin in the crowd and had to turn in the complete other direction, terrified of facing the man that she'd helped to carry into the Great Hall to lie next to his murdered wife.

"The hat never lies," Snape murmured as he placed his trunk up to rest next to hers.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Hermione asked, tearing her eyes away from the platform they were finally pulling away from.

"Severus," he corrected. "I can't be your teacher here," he clarified firmly, she knew he just wasn't comfortable with the idea that she might think he wanted to become familiar with her. "The hat doesn't lie, you'll be in Gryffindor," he resolved as he opened his book. "Please don't ruin my work by acting…," he paused as if searching for the right word.

"Like a mudblood?" She guessed with a raised eyebrow. He sent a hardened glare in her direction, but she appreciated that he didn't flinch when the word was spoken. They both knew there was more to fear in this life then a word.

"If that's how you'd like to refer to it," he answered simply. "Returning to your old ways may be tempting but you must remember that for now you are a Prince, a family notorious for its prejudices towards muggleborns and even half-bloods," he reminded with a dark look in his eyes.

"I've got it, glare at the mudbloods and wear these stupid robes," Hermione condensed, she was losing her patience the more he skated around the subject. Something about his permanently stoic disposition softened for a moment at her words.

"I know this isn't an ideal situation-," he began but Hermione interrupted him, not wanting his understanding or pity. It was easier to carry on through the farcical situation if she had someone to challenge her. If he started to be considerate suddenly, who would she be mad at but herself?

"This isn't what I fought for, but I'll play this part to get home," she stated plainly, concluding the conversation with a nod. She dropped her gaze to the herbology textbook on the table in front of her and pretended to read. She felt his eyes trail her movements long after she had begun to read about the benefits of Devil Snare however, her hairs seemed to stand on edge when ever he assessed her. Pushing the unnerving emotion down into her subconscious she raised her legs off the ground and rested them on the seat beside her before turning in and using her hair to mask her face.

"I'll have to go to the prefects meeting soon," Snape informed her as he began to peruse his own book lethargically.

"I'll lock the door after you," she replied, knowing that's really what he wanted to hear. She wondered if Remus had made prefect that year, or if maybe that had just been in his final year. To her, learning all the new names was going to be difficult, especially if they looked particularly like their sons or daughters. Thinking about it just made her head ache, she longed mournfully for the map.

"The map," Hermione hissed aloud when the thought passed through her head.

"Excuse me?" Snape said, raising his eyes from his book. Hermione dropped her legs to the compartment floor immediately and snapped her book closed.

"The Marauder's Map," she expanded quietly, not quite believing how absentminded she had nearly proved herself to be. "It's a map they made that shows the name of everyone in the castle," she explained, wincing slightly at the reaction she knew to be mere seconds away.

"And you neglected to mention this until now?" Snape growled at her menacingly. "How did those dunderheads manage anything that complex?" He continued, not giving her the chance to explain herself, obviously not overly concerned with her excuses.

"What do we do?" Hermione wondered out loud.

"It will have to be on the train, the risk would be too high the closer we get to the castle," he mused as he dropped his head into his hands and began to massage his temples. A moment of disillusionment ran through Hermione's system before she managed to get a grip of herself, it was so strange to see Snape like this. In her experience was never involved in the plans with the Order, she was always the child that was doubted. It was odd to see a _grown-up_ actually displaying how stressed they were without trying to cover it up for her sake. Even during the final battle Professor McGonagall had tried to hide how much trouble they were all in. Sitting there with Snape she felt more like a partner and member of the Order of the Phoenix than she ever had.

"I'll get it," she decided boldly, but continued on dutifully at his doubtful look. "Remus will be at the meeting, at some point another one will leave to use the loo or meet a friend. I can handle two of them in my sleep, I'll make it seem like revenge for the summer," she explained clearly, hoping that Remus was indeed a prefect.

"You're sure?" He questioned. She raised her eyes indignantly at first, thinking he was doubting her duelling abilities but then she studied his contrite expression. He wasn't asking whether she sure she could manage the fight, he was asking if she was sure she was willing to.

"I'm not going to fall apart sir, trust me," she murmured, speaking clearly and meeting his eyes with an honest expression. In the end that's what everything came down to, trust, and whether they were willing to give it to one another.

"Severus, not sir," he answered with a reluctant nod. "Change it if you can, if not just take the whole thing," he ordered as he slammed his own book closed and began to rise from his seat. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew his prefect badge before fixing it to the front of his robes. It seemed so odd to her that Professor Snape of all people would be wearing a uniform with a badge and looking so young. "The meeting starts in ten minutes so wait fifteen," he said in parting as he unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall. Before he left he turned around just as he was about to close the doors.

"Don't do anything idiotic," he added with a raised eyebrow Then he was gone, and the door was shut.

Time passed slowly in the small compartment as her anxiety grew at the notion of another meeting with the Marauders. It seemed her Gryffindor personality had shone once more when she had recommended herself for the task, she needed to muffle that impulse quickly before she ruined her cover before she even arrived at Hogwarts. When exactly sixteen minutes had passed she rose from her seat and unlocked the compartment with a decisive flick of her wand. The halls were packed with people going back and forth from compartments to greet people they hadn't seen over the Christmas break. A happy atmosphere resonated throughout the train that made Hermione's heart ache. She longed for the days that Harry, Ron and she used to laugh without worry, although the instances had been rare they were much treasured in her mind, unaffected by war. She wished she could be one of these students now, ignorant of what was to come.

It took a while but when she finally located the compartment the three boys were sitting in she strolled right past casually before stopping a few feet away. A few students passed by, shooting her curious looks, obviously not recognising her. She didn't smile at them, still unsure how the heir to a pureblood household reacted to most things in life. She just stood motionlessly and waited, when a half hour passed she cursed her rotten luck, obviously she'd have to deal with three of them at once. Something in her heart hurt at the prospect of having to confront Peter Pettigrew face to face. The man had been responsible for so much misery it seemed cruel of her to let it just play out.

 _Cruel but necessary_ , she reminded herself diligently.

Creeping forward she leaned to the right of the door and waited for a break in the human traffic. Of all the things she'd managed to do in the last few months this small mission should have been easy, but it wasn't. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to prepare herself. When the hall was deserted she withdrew her wand and braced herself.

In one fluid movement she blasted the door open and immediately stunned Pettigrew before the occupants of the compartment even knew what was happening. She turned to see James and Sirius, who had leapt to their feet, fumbling with their wands, clearly unused to the abruptness of her attack. Quickly she fired a stunner in James's direction, the boy didn't even have a chance to mount an offence before he too crumpled back into his seat. Sirius however, was ready with his wand by the time she turned her attention back to him.

"What the fuck?" He hissed at her. Clearly, she had stumbled into a game of enchanted wizardry chess, she could hear the pieces scream profanities for the attention of their masters. It was quite a surreal moment to have her wand trained on Sirius Black, the man whose life she had saved on the back of a hippogriff all those years ago, to a host of angry chess pieces.

"Get the fuck back here sonny!" One of James's players shouted at Sirius, from the corner of her eye she saw the queen shaking her fist at him angrily. Hermione couldn't be held responsible for the small smile that flittered across her face at the sound of the disgruntled royalty.

"What have you done to them?" She couldn't help just ask. She watched the tension in Sirius's arm grow as his grip on his wand tightened.

"A little animation charm," he admitted. The weight of his eyes as he scrutinised her was heavy.

"Get back here you poxy-eyed bastard! As long as my heart's still beating there's a battle to be won," the King called from James's side of the table.

"Why are you here?" Sirius demanded, managing to ignore the chess pieces.

"I don't like to be followed," Hermione responded evenly, having little success in supressing her smile. Suddenly, this entire situation seemed ridiculously hilarious to her, fighting Sirius Black for the Marauders Map.

"I didn't follow you," Sirius hissed a reply, his grey eyes flashing dangerously. It was clear he wasn't amused by the situation, but some emotion did stir on his face, something that looked like keen interest to Hermione.

"Then what was that day at the park about?" She asked with disbelief evident in her voice.

"So, we followed you a little," Sirius acknowledged dismissively, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Big fucking deal, we thought you were some muggle under the imperious of a Death Eater. I was keeping my conscience clear," he reasoned. Hermione watched the steady hold he had on his wand with envy, her own still shook violently. The tremors of the war still hadn't dissipated, much to her irritation.

"I don't like to be followed," she repeated evenly, not fully able to argue his point. Without waiting for his response, she cast a disarming spell silently in his direction.

"Protego," he called out, sending her spell into the window, fracturing it slightly.

"Do you have a screw lose or something?" Sirius demanded. She didn't bother to respond, instead she sent a barrage of silent curses in his direction. He defended himself quite well, for a sixteen-year-old with no battle experience, but she was stronger and didn't allow for any faltering in the intensity of her spell casting. Eventually a stunner broke through his haphazard shield and he collapsed to the ground with a look of outrage shining in his eyes.

Without pausing Hermione pushed James to the side of the chair and climbed up onto the seat of the compartment beside him. Reaching out into the overhead trunk storage she fiddled around until she could pop James's trunk open. Rooting around hastily she felt for anything that vaguely resembled the uniquely thick parchment of the Map she had grown so familiar with.

"Well this is interesting," a droll voice spoke from behind her. Whipping around with her wand directed at the intruder she faltered for a moment. Rodolophus Lestrange leaned on the thin door frame of the compartment with a look of amusement painted on his handsome well-defined features. The door she had lightly closed in her hast now swung open mockingly. "Well don't let me interrupt," he added. Stepping into the compartment he closed the door firmly behind him, all the while ignoring the wand that was still pointed at him.

Turning hesitantly, she continued to root through the trunk trying to ignore the Slytherin's loud presence. When James's trunk yielded no results, she turned and climbed across the table to search through Sirius's expensive one. She had to kick his prone form out of the way hesitantly, wincing slightly when she pushed too hard and his head clattered against the hard table.

"Looking for something in particular?" Rodolophus questioned from behind her. She ignored him for a moment and concentrated on the problem at hand.

 _Think Hermione_

She thought briefly about Harry and where he would have hidden the map. If it were him though he wouldn't have let it out of his sight, not to mind lying in a trunk completely dismissed.

 _That's it._

Practically jumping over the table, she reached down and pulled James into a sitting position. His head lolled to the side pathetically, but Hermione didn't miss the look of hatred that flared in his eyes. Pulling open his winter robes she reached inside the inner pocket she knew were designed into all men's robes. With relief her fingers clasped around the familiar parchment. Carefully she withdrew the map and placed it straight into her pocket, hoping that Rodolophus would dismiss this action amongst all the other oddities of their meeting. She turned to face the man, carefully climbing down from the table. There was little space with the door closed and she had to push her legs into the seat, so their bodies weren't touching.

"They're stunned not deaf," she reminded before their conversation began. His dark eyes scrutinised her face with a sort of lackadaisical amusement that might have been charming if she didn't already know exactly what he was capable of.

"Making friends?" He asked, smirking at her expense.

"I can't help but be friendly," she responded sardonically, pushing forward she reached for the door handle, the conversation seeming redundant to her. Before her fingers touched the metal, his hand was on hers pulling her back.

"What is it that you wanted in here?" He asked, the light expression he wore leaked from his face to be replaced with one that almost made it seem like there was a requirement to answer. His eyes darkened, and his mouth morphed from a carefree smile into a thin line. His grip on her wrist tightened threateningly.

"They hassled me this summer, I just wanted to take something they'd miss. Seems they aren't stupid enough to carry anything even vaguely valuable," she answered with faux bitterness. He pulled her slightly until her chest was pressed lightly against his. It was clear he intended the contact to send a thrill through her body, all it succeeded in doing however was making her blood run cold. Images of his older counterpart watching her with mania shining in his dark eyes as she writhed on the floor underneath his wife's cruel torture flashed into her mind before she could stop them.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier this summer," he murmured lowly, in a tone she assumed was supposed to sound seductive. Hermione had to hold in a sigh of annoyance, he was clearly mistaking her reticence as bashful flirtation.

"Perhaps we'll have time to rectify that during the school year," Hermione answered diplomatically, not meeting his eyes. She feared if she were to peer into them then there was no hope of her holding onto her sanity.

"Perhaps," he muttered. Gently he released his hold on her wrist before reaching up slowly and tilting her chin to force her eye. The caress was delicate and so unlike how he'd gripped her arm, showing how easy it was for him to disguise himself. "It's not just Snape around now Lady Prince," he crooned, his small smirk returning. She had to resist the violent urge to jump out of his grasp, clearly her pseudonym was going to garner her more attention then she had initially anticipated.

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied quietly before slowly reaching out and opening the compartment door. "Until next time, Sir," she answered, her voice was thankfully steadier than how she felt. The title seemed to please him, and his smirk grew even further. Gently she extracted her face from his grip before leaving the enclosed space that was suffocating her. He nodded and followed her out into the hallway, much to Hermione's relief. She knew that she wouldn't have been able to leave the stunned Marauders alone with the nefarious man.

"I'll save you a seat in Slytherin," he said in parting before heading off in the opposite direction she had arrived in. Hermione wondered if his betrothal to Bellatrix Black had been finalised and if it had whether he was searching for a way out of it. She shook her head, there was no understanding a man like that. _He probably just wanted to flirt with the new plaything_ , she thought derisively. With a sigh she started her walk back to her compartment. She kept her head down when Remus passed her in the hall, not quite ready to deal with the reality of her dead professor just yet. She didn't miss the curious look he shot her as she moved aside to let him pass however.

"You have it?" Severus demanded the second she entered the compartment. She withdrew the map and waved it in his direction instead of responding. The long exhale he released at the sight of the parchment was the only hint that he was relieved she had managed to retrieve it. "Did you manage to at least do it covertly?" He asked, his voice tense. Hermione looked down at the table in discomfiture, blasting her way through the boys probably hadn't been as _covert_ as Snape would have appreciated.

"Gryffindors," he cursed. "Did anyone see?" He asked, she could tell from his tone that he felt he was hoping against hope with the question. She didn't lift her gaze from the table. "Who?" He hissed.

"Lestrange," she responded quietly.

"Which one?" He demanded.

"Rodolophus," she responded succinctly. To her immense surprise he didn't snap an angry retort at her declaration, instead he just hummed to himself. Her gaze snapped up from the table to study him.

"Well there are worse things for him to see then you cursing that group," he responded. She sighed in relief at his word before collapsing onto the seat. Before long they descended into a comfortable silence, both pursuing their books once again, almost as if they hadn't moved at all. A mixture of anticipation and dread filled Hermione's heart, they were well and truly on their way to Hogwarts. Whether that was a good or a bad thing remained to be seen.

 **Please please please review. I had a bit of trouble with character development in this chapter so I really would appreciate the feedback :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Big thanks to MeiaAdey12, ninaaaaa, HGranger89, Shola2001, slythrclw-shdwhntr-46, Zadria Cerulean, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL and guests!**

 _Below my window the wakening trees,  
Hacked clean for better bearing, stand defaced  
Suffering their brute necessities;  
And how should the flesh not quail, that span for span  
Is mutilated more? In slow distaste  
I fold my towel with what grace I can,  
Not young, and not renewable, but man. _

-Thomas Kinsella

 **Chapter 8**

The train chugged to a stop rather ominously in Hermione's opinion. Snape wordlessly rose from his chair and reached up towards his trunk. She just watched his casual movements with thinly veiled envy, her heart was hammering inside her chest and her hands shook terribly. She doubted if she were still in the future that she would ever have returned to Hogwarts. It was stained with pain and regret to her, as she supposed it was for many people. Every corner of the old castle echoed a tragedy so unspeakable that she shuddered at just the thought of leaving the relative safety of the train. Her eyes drifted towards the window where she could make out a few students rushing around the platform exuberantly, some looked muddled, probably just having woken up after the long train ride, but there was an undeniable aura of peace present. The atmosphere contrasted so harshly to her tumultuous heart it was almost grating.

"Luna?" Severus's low tone summoned her from her musings. She turned to find him pushing her trunk across the table towards her. She nodded once before rising from her seat slowly. The uniform she'd changed into over an hour ago was new and starched stiff. She longed for her familiar Gryffindor robes that she had grown so accustomed to. "I'll be there, this isn't a battle we're facing. It's simply a means to an end," Severus murmured when he noticed the uncertain expression that marred her delicate features. It was strange for her to hear anything comforting coming from Severus Snape, the dark man that occupied the dungeons throughout most of her formative years.

"A means to an end," she reassured herself with a sigh. She nodded once more, not meeting Severus's gaze. Without another comment he opened the compartment door and headed out into the hall. Squaring her shoulders, she took a long steadying breath before following the determined man. It seemed over the last year she'd had to embrace more fears than she even knew she possessed. It was getting to the point that entering an intimidating situation was more arduous than unnerving.

She kept her head down as they walked through the station, using the hand Severus has placed near her lower back to guide her through the crowds. She was relieved when none of the Marauders leapt in front of them with their wands half braced with a curse. It seemed their revenge would be better thought out than she first expected. They reached the carriages without any incident, even Snape's _friends_ seemed to be giving the pair a wide berth. Her breath hitched when she finally lifted her gaze towards the carriages.

She couldn't help extending her hand and petting the aberrant creatures that stood eerily still in front of the carriage. It had seemed so strange to her when she had ridden the thestrals to the Ministry back in her fifth year. It had unnerved her to touch their skeleton structure with no real idea what they had looked like. She had naively thought they would resemble a horrible disfigured beast, not fit to walk the earth. She'd been wrong. They seemed to possess an enthral charm that captured Hermione's eye. They were so calm and confident in their own physique that they seemed to belong on this earth even more than she did. There was an obvious beauty in their darkness that exuded tranquillity. _Then again_ , considered Hermione, _there was a beauty in the mortality they represented as well._

"Luna," Severus called. Hermione jumped slightly and withdrew her hand from the thestral so fast that, to the casual observer, it almost appeared that she had been shocked. She looked up to see that his hand was in front of her. It took her a moment to realise that he was offering to help her up into the carriage.

"Sorry," she murmured lowly as she grasped his hand and stepped into the carriage. She thought she felt him squeeze her hand as a comfort before letting go but she quickly dismissed the idea when she noticed the neutral expression that resided on his face. Snape had never been one for platitudes, especially towards the best friend of Harry Potter.

"Hello Severus. Nice Yule?" A feminine voice called as she climbed the steps and entered the carriage. "And this must be Lady Prince?" She added with a bold smirk in Hermione's direction. Hermione shuddered involuntarily at the sound of the familiar voice. Bellatrix Black was beautiful, in a wickedly roguish style. Her hair was still a little wild, but her eyes shone in an impish challenging way that contrasted harshly to the mania that Hermione had unfortunately grown to associate with the woman. While Hermione was sure that the girl in front of her was capable of great evil, she could also admit that Azkaban's scars on the older woman were even more apparent with the clear disparities between the two. Nevertheless, she felt her body stiffen and a familiar panic claw at her chest.

"Tedious as ever Bellatrix," he responded evenly before gesturing towards the unnerved girl by his side. "This is Luna Prince, my cousin. This Luna is Bellatrix Black, of the Ancient and Most Noble House," he introduced formally before letting his arm fall to his side. _Typical Snape,_ Hermione thought disparagingly, _cool and collected no matter what_.

"A pleasure," Bellatrix commented with a smirk, her eyes openly assessed the girl. Hermione could only nod weakly in return, being saved by the appearance of a slightly older boy she didn't recognise climbing into the carriage dressed in Slytherin robes.

"Walden, I didn't see you on the train," Bellatrix declared loudly, in a tone that bordered on flirtatious.

 _Oh Merlin._

Suddenly the boys crooked nose and heavy-lidded eyes seemed all too familiar. It was strange seeing the Death Eater that had been employed to kill Buckbeak as anything but spine-chilling. Hermione had to do a double take just to confirm that the aloof boy was the killer she'd learned to fear. Macnair's presence certainly was jarring.

The two future Death Eaters continued an amicable conversation until the thestrals began to move. Hermione almost thought that she'd be able to make it to the castle until Bellatrix released a loud high-pitched laugh at something Macnair had said. It seemed twenty years had little impact on Bellatrix's laugh. Suddenly Hermione was back in the Malfoy's drawing room with the sadistic woman leaning over her, cutting into her skin while she cackled. The carriage was gone, and her senses were consumed with the horrible memory. The way the woman's matted hair had brushed off her shoulder when she'd whispered terrible things into her ear. The stink of her vulgar breath. The thought that she was going to end up like the Longbottoms. It was all-consuming and hitched her breath painfully.

The tight clutch on her hand drew Hermione from the awful recesses of her mind. Looking down she saw Severus's hand gripping both of hers in her lap so tightly his knuckles were strained white. She was woefully reminded of the first night she had spent in the past, when she'd woken in a complete panic and clung to the stoic man. His firm touch seemed to anchor her to the present. He never turned his head to look at her, but somehow, he'd known what turmoil haunted her. Hermione didn't miss the way Bellatrix studied the sudden contact with an amused smirk.

"Walden, have you had the pleasure of meeting Lady Prince?" Bellatrix asked when there was a lull in the conversation. Macnair's light blue eyes turned to study her, as if seeing her for the first time. Hermione wasn't fooled though, she knew he'd been curious about her presence from the second he'd stepped into the carriage.

"I don't think I have," he responded with an incline of his head in her direction. "An absolute pleasure, my Lady," he murmured softly. Hermione had to stop herself from wincing. _My Lady_ was far too close to _My Lord_ for her comfort.

"A pleasure indeed," Hermione managed to mutter back, her voice much steadier than her tumultuous mind thought possible. Her grip on Severus's fingers increased and she was glad when his hold tightened in response, it was the only outlet for the uneasiness and fear that plagued her. Slowly the carriage came to a stop, much to her undisputed relief.

"Well then, let the year begin," Bellatrix announced with cheerfully acerbity. She threw a smile towards Hermione that she couldn't find the will power to reciprocate.

….

Minerva McGonagall changed very little in the twenty years that had passed since Hermione had last seen her. Severus had led her though the familiar castle that seemed to permeate loss in her heart until the strict woman was in sight. Hermione stood and watched as the woman, who had become close to a maternal figure in her life, lectured some first years, who had lost their way, with a sharp glint in her eyes. She remembered with a smile how Trevor had wondered out in front of the Professor during her own speech.

"Professor?" Snape called when she'd begun to herd the first years towards the Great Hall. McGonagall turned at the sound before spotting Severus in the crowd. The severe thinning of her lips might have been comical if Hermione wasn't so nervous.

"Mr Snape," McGonagall greeted stiffly as she walked towards the pair. "And this must be the Miss Prince the Headmaster has told me about," she continued as her eyes shifted to evaluate the girl. Hermione could easily spot the thinly veiled in the woman's eyes. Judging from the reaction Hermione had to assume that Severus was somewhat of a nuisance to the woman.

"Yes ma'am," Severus confirmed.

"And I suppose she needs you to be sorted?" McGonagall queried harshly with a raised eyebrow.

"No ma'am. I was simply showing her the way," Snape conceded as he nodded towards Hermione and began to follow the first years that were ambling nervously towards the Great Hall. Hermione could see the surprise in the woman's expression at how diplomatic he was with his answer, again she was forced wondered just how snarky Severus was as teenager. She watched him leave, for the first time grieving his assertive presence.

"Well Miss Prince you can either be sorted in front of the school or I could sort you right now," McGonagall questioned with that _no-nonsense_ tone that Hermione had grown so familiar with. Belatedly she noticed the sorting hat that was folder on top of some rolls of parchment in the older woman's arms.

"Right now please Ma'am," Hermione said weakly, the thought of placing the hat on her head made her nauseous. What sort of person was she now? She doubted that she'd be able to fit into just one of four simple categories. Sure, she'd fought with the light, but that didn't mean that she hadn't made some questionable decisions over the last year, some that didn't speak of bravery but fear.

"Wise decision Miss Prince," McGonagall said. Wasting no time, the older woman handed over the hat to the slightly startled girl. Hermione took it automatically but paused for a moment before putting it on. "Well, don't dawdle girl, I have a Welcome Feast to attend," she ordered sharply. Hermione couldn't supress the little smile that grew on her face at the command. There was no Lady Prince to the strict Professor, to her she was just another student. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the familiar hat onto her head.

 _'Well then, this most certainly is a surprise'_ the sombre voice spoke in her mind the second the hat touched her head.

 _'Is it?'_ Hermione asked, terrified of what the disembodied presence might be seeing in her frazzled mind.

 _'A time traveller wouldn't merit a little surprise in your books Miss Granger?'_ The voice asked with a hint of amusement. Hermione froze, petrified of the power the hat now had over her. ' _Oh, do try and control your nerves child. I'm not in the business of sharing the details I might find in the heads of my sorted,'_ he continued glibly. It took a moment for Hermione to calm her erratic breathing.

 _'What are you in the business of?'_ She asked boldly.

 _'I thought that was obvious? I am known as the sorting hat after all,'_ the voice answered, completely dismissing any subtext her question may have had.

 _'So where am I to go then?'_ She asked, wanting the conversation to be over.

 _'Well you don't seem to think you fit in anywhere, so how am I to pick?'_ He asked gently. ' _I only ever tell a person what they already know_ ', he continued.

' _I don't really feel brave anymore,'_ Hermione confirmed miserably.

 _'Brave isn't a feeling Miss Granger, it's a verb,'_ he explained softly. _'The secret, my dear girl, is that there is a bit of each house in every person I sort. Surely you don't really believe that you don't prize knowledge, that your good friend Harry wasn't loyal or that even your unlikely travelling companion is not brave?'_ He questioned softly. _'Just because you have changed does not mean that there is no longer a place for you in Godric's house,"_ he reasoned. Hermione had to swallow back the lump that had formed in her throat at the hat's words. His comments resonated with some doubts she had been mulling over the last year. There were choices she'd made that would be morally questionable in most people's minds, choices that kept her awake at night. Her devotion to ending Voldemort had narrowed her vision. All the carnage had been supressed and now that she had finally finished her tasks all that was left were the memories of people she'd condemned along the way. From Goblins to school children she carried their losses heavily on her shoulders.

 _'Miss Granger, there is only so much in this life that you can take responsibility for. A war is not one of them,'_ the hat murmured as he followed her train of thought. "GRYFFINDOR," he called aloud suddenly, jarring Hermione was her sombre thoughts. She opened her eyes to see McGonagall pulling the hat from her head, an expression of surprise covering her face.

"I must admit Miss Prince, I did not expect you to be in my house," she acknowledged lowly with a curious gleam in her eyes.

Hermione could only nod weakly in return; the hat had given her a lot to consider.

….

Severus Snape pointedly ignored Dumbledore's welcome speech for the new year. Seeing the man had been so surreal he felt the need to focus on just about anything else. His attention was taken by the brunette that sat at the end of the Gryffindor table. There were empty seats surrounding her, but he didn't think the preoccupied girl noticed the obvious snub from her classmates. Word of her attack on the Marauders must have spread through the house like fiendfyre. Even from his seat across the room he could see how preoccupied she was with her thoughts. He wondered, not for the first time, if he'd made the right decision, playing on the girl's respect for authority, to convince her to come to Hogwarts.

"You must be disappointed Severus," Rodolophus muttered from across the table. Severus let a little amusement seep into his eyes to interest the boy. "Or not," he added when he noticed his expression.

"Oh, please Rodolophus, you can't believe I wanted the girl in this house with every other man aspiring for her hand," he answered back, trying his best to keep his irritation out of his tone. He'd been manufacturing this excuse for weeks and didn't want it ruined by his lack of patience. A look of realisation dawned on the Rodolophus's face.

"So, you encouraged her to go for the house that we hate the most?" He queried with a raised eyebrow. In favour of a verbal response Severus just passed a derisive look to the older boy that seemed to breathe the word _obviously._

"Oh, you wicked man," Bellatrix tutted lowly from Severus's left with a mischievous smile. "The poor girl looks disgusted to be amongst those half breeds," she continued with a giggle. Severus turned his attention back to the girl who'd been a thorn in his side for nearly seven years now. He could see how Bellatrix would mistake her uneasiness for haughtiness, her shoulders were tense as she studied her hands and she hadn't reached for any food on the table. Severus sighed as a prick of worry prodded his conscience. The last year had been hard on the girl, gone was the childish brave know-it-all that always seemed to have a sparkle of mischief in her eyes and in her place a grieved shook woman.

"How did you convince her to go for it?" Rabastan asked from beside his brother. Those were unsurprising the first words that the quiet boy had spoken to Severus since they'd arrived back from the holidays.

"I may have convinced her that Gryffindor house might provide a little respite from the _drafty dungeons_ , granted I don't think she thought she'd be dining with mudbloods," Severus indulged allowing a small smirk to grace his stern face. The nasty word spilled out of his mouth easily, but it felt dirty on his tongue. "The girl thought the Slytherin common room was damp and mouldy by the time Yule was over," he added for comic relief, but struggled to smile along with the others when images of the girl screeching at night filled his mind. What horrors had she endured by the people at that very table?

"A stroke of genius really Severus, won't stop my brother here though," Rodolophus jested, while reaching up to pat a smirking Rabastan on the back. Severus simply scoffed at the implication.

"Best of luck, I have that girl wrapped around my little finger," he challenged openly. Conversation moved on then, but the matter was left hanging in the air uneasily. Severus returned his attention to the isolated girl reluctantly. Watching her, so secluded and filled with grief reminded him keenly of how he'd behaved when the first war had ended. It was an unsettling comparison and one he's rather forget.

….

"I just feel sorry for her is all, sitting alone at the end of the table," Marlene complained as she watched Luna Prince finally reach for some food. It was only a bread roll and Marlene was convinced the girl was more interested in pulling it apart rather than actually consuming it.

"She attacked us," Sirius retorted darkly as he took a long drink from his pumpkin juice. Somehow the boy made it seem like he was drinking firewhiskey instead of a simple vegetable drink.

"From the sounds of it, you guys _did_ sort of stalk her," Alice defended, having recently been caught up with the gossip about the new girl.

"Alice," Lily hissed at one of her best friend's treachery. Alice raised her hands up in an appeasing manor.

"I'm just saying Lily, it must have been pretty unsettling to find you all hanging around her house like that, especially in times like this," Marlene defended, they all knew what exactly she was referencing. The rise of a new Dark Lord wasn't exactly information that could be avoided, even if by some miracle a person hadn't heard the whispers, the change of atmosphere throughout Wizardry Britain was too drastic to ignore. Lily scoffed at her friends reasoning.

"And what would a pureblood Prince have to worry about?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow. Marlene just shrugged in response, not meeting the redhead's eye. It was a well-known fact that Lily was the only muggleborn amongst the group, and the fear of offending the girl held all their tongues.

"I'd keep my distance if I were you, she'd not exactly pleasant to talk to," James said as he rubbed the back of his head where he'd landed after her powerful stunner had met its mark.

"Kind of funny one little girl took the three of you on," Alice commented with a smirk.

"We were taken by surprise," Sirius immediately defended, from his tone the subject was a sour one.

"It _is_ weird that a home-schooled witch could take us all on," James mused to himself.

"Is there something you want to say about our gender Potter," Lily's crisp voice cut through his thoughts. Her emerald eyes narrowed dangerously at the insinuation.

"What? No! I was just saying home-schooled pureblood witches aren't exactly known for their education," James hurriedly explained, attempting to mitigate his error.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lily pushed, not relenting.

"They're basically kept to marry and pop out a few kids Lily," Marlene cut in, feeling a little sorry for the floundering boy.

"That's barbaric," Lily muttered, completely aghast. A few people just shrugged in response, that was just the way things were.

"She'll probably have trouble keeping up," Alice pondered, sending another sympatric glance down towards the isolated girl.

"She has the stunner spell down anyway," Peter muttered bitterly. There was a moment's pause before a few of the girls started to chortle at the boy's expense.

"She just had a few lucky shots," James rationalised with a little smile of his own.

Sirius turned to study the girl for a moment. There was definitely _something_ intriguing about the witch he'd heard so much about the last few days. While his friends had been stunned early he had had the opportunity to exchange a few spells with her. He was many things, but ignorant of power and control was not one of them and the girl possessed bucket loads of each. He watched as she lifted her gaze and sought out Snape at the Slytherin table. The taciturn boy had already been staring in her direction and a moment seemed to pass between the pair before they both dropped their gazes. If Sirius was a betting wizard, which in all honesty he was at times, his money would reflect his suspicions. There was obviously a comradery between the pair, that was deeper than estranged family ever could be.

…

Hermione hurried towards the girl dorms the second the first person stood to leave. Sitting at the familiar table had been painful. The last time she'd spent so long in the Great Hall instead of tables there had been lines of bodies. A flash of Remus and Tonks lying, with vacant stares arms outstretched, almost touching, where the Ravenclaw table should have been caused an involuntary shudder to creep up her spine. Hermione didn't know how anything would ever be the same even if by some miracle she did manage to return to her own time. She shook her head fiercely, moping had never been in her nature.

"So, you're the new girl that has everyone gossiping," a masculine voice called from behind her just as she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was glad for the company, if only so she could ask for the password. She turned with a small smile on her face, ready to play nice with whoever wanted her attention. She froze when she saw a set of familiar blue-green eyes and renowned red hair.

"Sorry?" She questioned, transfixed by the resemblance between the man and her best friend.

"Fabian Prewett," he introduced with an incline of his head and a small smirk. "Head boy," he added, as a way of explanation for why he too was roaming the halls alone.

"Luna Prince," Hermione responded, the name unfamiliar to her tongue.

"You must have run from the Hall to be the first one here, I'm just finished setting up the password," he commented lightly as he drew nearer with a casual ease that was so like his nephew. There was something in his eyes that differed from him however, an astute curiosity that Ron had never possessed.

"The password?" Hermione asked, not wanting to extend the conversation any longer than it needed to be.

"Gryffindor is by far the better house," Fabian said, for a moment Hermione thought that he was continuing their discussion with a peculiar topic change but when she heard the portrait open behind her she had to supress her smile.

"I'm not sure how the Professors will feel about that comment," she murmured as she backed away from him and headed towards the common room.

"I'm hoping after they say it a few times the affirmation will become something of a subconscious truth," he called after her.

"How positively Slytherin of you," Hermione couldn't help but comment. She thought, for a moment, that he might look affronted at the suggestion, like Ron would have, but instead he just chucked lowly.

"We all have our vices I suppose," he muttered with an amused glint in his eyes.

"To that I must agree," she professed with a sad smile. She nodded once before turning completely and entering the common room, glad that he seemed to be heading in the opposite direction. He'd be needed to guide the prefects and to take care of the younger years.

Feeling slightly nostalgic she made her way up the spiralled staircase towards the sixth floor where she knew her dorms would be. It wasn't until she was finally behind the curtain surrounding her bed that she finally allowed the tears to leak down her pale face. She was sick of feeling so tired and angry all the time. The last few years had been so fast paced, a constant series of projects that needed her absolute attention. Now all that surrounded her was a terrible stillness that gave her too much time to think about things that shouldn't be thought about. She steadied her sobs with a few hard willed deep breathes and mentally berated herself.

 _Now was not the time to break down_

She didn't have the luxury of such trivial emotions, from here on out she was going to block out all the memories and the hardship and just focus. There was a solution to her situation and she'd be damned if she didn't find it before the school year was out.

 **Please please please review. I hope there wasn't too much angst for you guys.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks so much for all the kind reviews. Special thanks to ninaaaaa, HGranger89, slythrclw-shdwhntr-46, Zadria Cerulean, DUCKY692, annie, uhohspaghettiooos, Blue night fairy, Smithback, Sarahostervig1, ante-diem, Ecwb and guests.**

 **I've had a pretty dreadful few weeks (I'm a final year undergrad in engineering and I think the course outline was made with the specific purpose of killing me slowly). Anywho, much love and please enjoy the chapter. You guys are the absolute best.**

 _Yet could we turn the years again,_

 _And call those exiles as they were_

 _In all their loneliness and pain,_

 _You'd cry, 'Some woman's yellow hair_

 _Has maddened every mother's son':_

-William Butler Yeats

 **Chapter 9**

Hermione waited until she was sure all the girls had left for breakfast before she pulled back the curtain surrounding her bed. It had been a long night of tossing and turning trapped in night terrors. Without Snape around to wake her it seemed she was doomed to relive her worst experiences. She was glad she had silenced the area around her bed the night before. She heaved a long sigh as she pulled on her Hogwarts uniform lethargically. Mornings had always been the same for her, eerily quiet with only her thoughts to keep her company. She meandered over to the mirror to watch as she tied her tie.

Hermione paused for a moment as she took in her appearance. She really did look young, the weight she'd lost in the war had not yet been replaced and her dimmed eyes looked a little sunken. She finished her tie with the muscle memory only a student could have but didn't turn away from the mirror. It was too bizarre staring at someone she barely recognised. She stood up straight and squared her shoulders.

 _I am Hermione Granger, not some school girl._

She told herself, trying to scrounge up some of the confidence and indignation that had always been just bubbling under the surface of her emotions. It was difficult to force the feeling, somethings just couldn't be faked, no matter how much the fabrication would comfort. Sometimes people really were just empty and maybe a little too raw to heal.

 _I am Undesirable Number 2._

She reaffirmed in her mind. In the mirror she spotted the bedroom door crack open a smidge, as if to maintain the room's silence. Hermione turned quickly with her wand drawn and waited for the door to be opened fully.

"Woah," Alice murmured when she spotted the defensive position Hermione was in. She lowered her wand immediately on seeing the petite brown-haired girl's stunned face.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered unsurely, not knowing if pureblood ladies would even apologise. The shock faded from Alice's brown eyes quickly and was replaced with a warm welcoming look, so like her sons that it pierced Hermione's aching heart, but she didn't look away. She needed to embrace these similarities, starting today.

"No need to be sorry, it must have looked rather ominous seeing the door opening like that. I just forgot my Defence Textbook," she explained, pointing towards the book that was at the foot of the bed nearest to the door. "I didn't know if you'd want us to wake you," she continued bashfully, obviously there had been mixed opinions on pulling back Hermione's curtain. She was immensely glad they'd decided to leave her be. Being introduced to all the girls at once would have been too much, especially if she had to pretend she hated anyone that didn't have a few Wizardry ancestors.

"It's alright," Hermione replied. "I like to sleep in," she lied, she'd stared at the ceiling for most of the night.

"Right," Alice answered, clearly struggling to find common ground. "Breakfast?" She asked suddenly. "I mean would you like some breakfast?" she clarified with a pretty red blush covering her cheeks.

"Breakfast would be nice," Hermione responded. "Have the timetables already been given out?" She asked as she picked up her heavy book bag. Alice nodded enthusiastically.

"Are you taking Defence this year?" She asked, throwing Hermione for a loop.

"Yes," Hermione answered carefully.

"We've a double today first thing so just bring those books and then come back at lunch for the rest when you have your timetable," Alice explained helpfully. "It's Alice by the way," the girl added as an afterthought unnecessarily. Hermione had recognised her straight away the night before, not by the glance she'd received in the Long-Term Residents' Ward that day in St Mungos but by her overwhelming resemblance to Neville. Dutifully Hermione emptied her bag of the heavy textbooks until only the one book remained.

"Luna," she responded belatedly. It just seemed like a bit of an unnecessary introduction to her, it wasn't like Alice hadn't heard the gossip about the new girl yet. Nevertheless, her polite nature shined through.

"You ready?" she asked once Hermione had thrown the bag over her shoulder. She nodded weakly, trying her best to ignore Alice's kind smile. She wondered if Alice would still be so polite if she knew the future Hermione was trying to preserve.

"I heard you were from France," Alice asked once they had reached the bottom of the stairs.

"I imagine one would hear a lot of things from the Hogwarts rumour mill," Hermione commented dryly, remembering the days when she had been nothing more than a heart-breaking wench during her fourth year. Alice's face reddened, and Hermione immediately felt guilty. "The South of France actually," she added, not wanting to offend the girl. She sighed slightly at the tangle of lies she was spinning.

"You miss it?" Alice questioned, mistaking Hermione's reticence for homesickness.

"I miss my home very much," Hermione replied, for once not lying.

"Must be hard to pick up everything and leave," Alice commented sympathetically. Hermione barely managed to stop herself from flinching at the kind tone. If there was anyone that Hermione didn't want pity from it was Neville's mother. "Did you attend a school over there?" she questioned when it was clear Hermione wasn't going to answer. By now they were nearly at the Great Hall. The volume of students in the corridors was enormous, much more than Hermione was used to in her own time. She had been too preoccupied last night to really notice the difference, but now it couldn't be ignored. She guessed that the first war had decimated the population much more than she had ever realised.

"I was home-schooled," Hermione responded evenly. She could feel the eyes of the student population on her as she made her way through the crowds. It was more unsettling than she had expected it to be, tardily she realised that crowds of people were going to be difficult for her. She wondered when her reputation as the 'new girl' would fade.

"I would have hated that," Alice commented honestly, if a little bluntly. Her face coloured prettily again, clearly this girl had more in common with her son than Hermione had first expected.

"Hogwarts is pretty awe-inspiring," Hermione attempted to rectify, not able to supress the small smile that pulled at her mouth. Alice nodded, looking relieved and a little happy that Hermione had a sense of humour. They entered the Great Hall and to her surprise Alice settled down beside her at the Gryffindor table.

"You're English is very good," Alice commented airily as she reached for a slice of toast. Hermione hesitated for a moment, this was something Snape had prepared her for.

"I grew up amongst English people who interacted very little with the French," she explained carefully, trying hard not to add anything too ostentatious that she might forget later.

"I've only been to France once to meet relatives, the weather over there is to die for," Alice responded as she reached for the butter for her recently acquired toast. Hermione studied the occupants of the hall and noticed the rest of her dorm mates on the opposite side of the table casting a few sly glances towards them.

"I hope I'm not keeping you from your friends," Hermione commented, ignoring Alice's attempt at conversation.

"I'm sure they'll survive one morning without me," she joked with a small smile as she sent a wave down the table towards the girls who all promptly busied themselves with their breakfast. "Besides who would show you to class?" She added. Hermione couldn't help but feel touched by Alice's _no-nonsense_ kindness. As nice as the moment was she knew it couldn't continue if she were to maintain her cover.

"You have relatives in France, anyone I might know?" Hermione questioned. Alice didn't so much as bat an eyelid at the obvious inquiry into her blood purity.

"My surname is Prewett if that helps," Alice replied. The surname shocked Hermione, she hadn't known that Alice and Molly were related, however distantly.

"It sounds familiar," Hermione muttered noncommittedly. The girl just nodded as she ate her toast, obviously she'd been expecting a question along those lines.

"Miss Prince?" Professor McGonagall called as she approached the two girls. In her hands were the remainder of the timetables that had not yet been given out.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione acknowledged as she handed her the paper.

"That is quite a packed schedule Miss Prince, be sure to know your limits," the older woman warned before heading back to the head table without so much as a parting glance. Her apathetic attitude unsettled Hermione more than she'd like to admit, during her years at Hogwarts her connection to the head of Gryffindor had verged on maternal.

"Packed schedule?" Alice asked.

"I'm quite ambitious with my studies," Hermione replied quietly as she studied the timetable. Truthfully, she had no part to play in picking her subjects. Severus had selected them on one of her bad days when she'd not felt like talking and had spent most of the day reading with Olive. She was surprised to see that all the topics she would have chosen were present; Defence, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Herbology. The only thing that was missing was Astronomy, but Hermione suspected that both she and Severus had enough of looking towards the stars for an outcome.

"That's not ambitious, it's masochistic," Alice muttered as she read the schedule from over Hermione's shoulder. "I want to be an Auror and even mine isn't so jam packed," she added as she took her last bite of toast and pushed the crumbs off her crinkled uniform. She was about to formulate an appropriately blasé response when a deep voice spoke from behind them.

"Defence, Luna?" Severus asked shortly, not even acknowledging Alice's presence. Hermione was relieved to hear his familiar voice, even if it wasn't particularly friendly.

"I could show you," Alice suggested, her impatient tone hinting that Severus's presence was not only unwelcome but not completely unfamiliar. Hermione briefly wondered how bothersome Severus was to the girl when he had been friends with Lily.

"Thanks so much Alice, but I really must catch up with Severus," Hermione responded as diplomatically as possible. She didn't miss the look filled with suspicion that Alice passed Severus. Obviously, the girl thought that she needed saving of some sort. Severus didn't wait for the conversation to playout, instead he leaned forward and lifted Hermione's bag from the floor before stalking out of the hall. "I guess that's my cue," Hermione muttered as she rose from the table.

"See you in class?" Alice questioned with a small smile that didn't reach her perceptive brown eyes. Hermione just nodded weakly in return, not liking at all how tense her morning had become.

…..

"There's something you should know about the Defence teacher this year," Snape murmured once Hermione had fallen into step beside him. The halls were even busier than earlier, but she had no problem maintaining his pace, the students almost seemed to part when they caught sight of her.

"Is he going to try and kill me too?" Hermione muttered with a roll of her eyes. She paused momentarily at the sharp look that Snape sent in her direction, obviously talking about the future in Hogwarts was off limits to him.

"Oh please, no one was ever after you. You just had that unfortunate Gryffindor trait of getting yourself caught in the middle," he replied curtly. She narrowed her eyes at him, something about the comment grated her nerves keenly. It almost felt like he was suggesting she drew all her problems on herself. Even if she had never met Harry the war would still have happened, the only difference was she had seen how it had all unravelled rather than just waking up one day to a big mess.

"Funny, I would have thought that it was my _dirty blood_ that did that," Hermione re-joined, her tone combative. Before she could mount a defence, Snape had grabbed her arm and pulled her into an alcove away from the other students. The momentum she had gathered from his harsh jerk had her careening into the hard-stone wall. Snape was a few inches in front of her before she even had the time to reach up and assess the ache in the back of her head.

"Do you think this is a joke?" He hissed aggressively. The look in his dark eyes dragged her back to her first day in his potions classroom and how he had so casually shattered her dream of a potions mastery. It had been so long since he had displayed any emotion so condescending that it sent her slightly reeling. She'd become so used to his calming presence she'd forgotten how callous he could be.

"You can't just make comments like that," He reprimanded fiercely, his grip on her arm intensified. "Just because we're at Hogwarts instead of off in the country side in a tent somewhere doesn't mean we're safe," he chastised. Hermione stood frozen, too stunned at the abrupt change in his character to formulate a response. Her arm ached but she didn't dare remove it from his grasp. The reference of her time with Harry and Ron hit her hard. "Don't grow too comfortable," he warned starkly.

"I'm not-," she began but then paused, perhaps the comment had been ill-advised, but it wasn't Hogwarts that had made her drop her guard. Snape had managed to weasel his way into her fraying temper and she hadn't been able to stop herself from retorting harshly. Hogwarts wasn't the problem, her growing familiarity with her Potions Professor was. She had to remember that she couldn't just say what she was thinking to him, he wasn't her age, he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts for Merlin's sake.

"It won't happen again," she settled upon before pulling her arm free from his clutches, her irritation slowly returning to her. Quickly she grabbed her bag out of his hand and pushed her way out of the alcove and back amongst the students. Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest and a wave of embarrassment was hitting her cruelly. She hated being treated like a child, especially when she deserved it.

Hermione felt his presence a few paces behind her, completely inescapable. She hoped that the same classroom was being used as in her time, she had no desire to be manhandled again if she took a wrong turn. She heaved a sigh of relief when a few Hufflepuffs were gathered outside the familiar classrooms with their defence textbooks held haphazardly in their hands. The door was open but even in her time it was an unspoken rule to stay outside of the room itself until the bell announced it was nine o'clock.

Hermione leaned against the wall and felt Snape stand beside her. She didn't look at him, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had upset her. She saw a few students glance her way and even take a step towards her, but she guessed Snape's malicious expression discouraged any introductions. Soon the crowd had grown so immense that Hermione was greatly relieved to hear the shrill sound of the bell.

Everyone filed in lethargically, obviously the first class of the year wasn't an exciting event. Snape sat towards the middle of the room, for a moment Hermione pondered stalking away and finding some lonely Hufflepuff to sit next to. Her pride stopped her, she didn't want to prove him right and act childishly. Begrudgingly she dropped into the seat next to him but didn't spare him a glance. Dutifully she opened her textbook and started to flip through the first few pages insouciantly. From the corner of her eye she noticed the great divide between the Slytherin and the Gryffindor students. Both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had settled between the rivals forcing the two houses to either side of the classroom. She was far from ignorant of the fact that she was nestled amongst the Slytherins, there was no ignoring the stares of her house mates.

"Welcome back everyone. Did you have a good Christmas?" A deep voice called from the top of the class. Hermione's head shot up to study the tall man who was dressed in professional robes with the Auror emblem visible over his heart. He couldn't have been older than his mid-twenties. His face was unusually familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place from where she recognised him. There was a low murmured response from the class that made the Professor grin. "Well I guess it's straight back to work then," he continued as he moved towards his desk to pick up his book. Once again there was a heavy sigh from almost every occupant in the class.

"Well as you may have noticed over the holidays things are changing out there in the world. There are reasons the Auror Department charged me with teaching this course for a year and most of them revolve around preparing you for what's out there," he divulged carefully. Hermione couldn't help but notice the inflection he had put on the word _most._ She wondered briefly if the Ministry was interfering once more at Hogwarts or if the extra protection was appreciated by Dumbledore, she doubted it. Dumbledore never valued prying eyes.

"For that reason, after much discussion, the Headmaster has allowed me to discuss a few serious topics with the fourth, fifth and sixth years before you all reach your NEWT year," he expanded, his eyes roaming around the large class. Hermione was surprised they hadn't split the class up between houses to reduce the numbers. She noticed his eyes pause for a moment when he noticed her before he continued. "Today we'll be studying The Unforgivables," he pressed, from his expression she could tell he was carefully watching for the classes reaction.

There was a loud murmuring around the room at his declaration which surprised Hermione. She'd been a fourth year when the Imperious had been cast on her and her class hadn't so much as raised an eyebrow. She supposed that was the difference between her generation and this one, here war was brewing but they hadn't felt it, hadn't seen it's consequences. Everyone in her year had known just how quickly the world could turn sour, it had been bred into them by their parent's traumas or in Hermione's case through the absences that surrounded her. Harry's parents, Molly's brothers, Neville's parents the list went on and on, making it impossible not to want to be prepared.

"Which of you can tell me how many Unforgivable curses there are?" The Auror/Professor asked boldly over the murmuring. The familiar words unsettled Hermione, Crouch had asked an almost identical question. No hands lifted into the air, which didn't surprise her. No one who knew the answer to the question would want to show off their knowledge on the forbidden topic. "No one?" he pushed. "What about our new girl?" He asked, turning suddenly to seek her gaze out. Hermione wasn't surprised by the sudden inquiry, she'd already noticed his interest earlier. "Miss Prince, was it? I hope you won't have trouble keeping up," He questioned with derision in his familiar blue eyes, obviously he wasn't a fan of the old name.

"Three, Sir," She answered evenly, carefully she ensured her Occlumency shields were in place before she met his eye.

"That's Auror Longbottom to you Miss Prince," he warned with narrowed eyes. Suddenly the man's familiarity was no longer a mystery. Unlike Alice, Frank's likeness to Neville was less obvious. Besides his blue eyes and the shape of his mouth, they might have hardly resembled each other if it weren't for the way he carried himself. The way he stood reminded Hermione so strongly of the Neville that had led her to the Room of Requirement before the battle it was jarring. The same confidence and pride flowed through both men, the only difference was the humble edge that Neville had never lost. "But you are correct, any chance you could name them?" he pushed.

She shook her head, not willing to divulge anything else.

"What a pity, if there was anything a Prince might be knowledgeable about it would be the unforgivables. I guess it's true what they say about you home-schooled pureblood witches," he spat back in response. To say Hermione was shocked by the acidic rejoinder would be an understatement. She had no idea what the man had against her, wisely she dropped her gaze and hoped he'd move on to the next student. It took a moment but eventually he called on a Ravenclaw who had raised his hand.

"I tried to warn you," Snape whispered when the classes attention had finally lifted from her. She sent him a glare in return.

"What is his problem?" She hissed from the corner of her mouth.

"The last Prince to have visited Britain allegedly put an end to his grandfather," he explained grimly. His dark eyes studied the black board at the top of the class dismissively.

"And that Prince would be?" She asked, dreading the answer.

"Well if you're the heir that would be your dear ole dad," he replied finally turning towards her with a smirk.

"Great," she muttered sarcastically.

"He's not my biggest fan either," Snape admitted, leaning towards her in his chair so they could maintain the conversation relatively unnoticed. "He only graduated a few years ago, so he's still holding onto his house prejudices," he explained further with a roll of his eyes. "Not exactly the most mature choice on behalf of Dumbledore but I think it had something to do with his connection to the Order," he said, keeping his voice low so that no one would over hear the interesting titbit. "The whole thing will be quite scandalous soon enough," Snape muttered with a conspiring smirk, for a moment Hermione almost felt like they were two friends sitting and gossiping until she remembered what had happened only minutes ago in the alcove. She immediately shook the feeling of comradery.

"Scandalous?" Hermione muttered.

"The girl they called the brightest of her generation can't do simple maths?" He questioned before nodding towards the Gryffindor side of the room, specifically at a certain brunette.

"No," Hermione couldn't help but whisper. In her head however, the dates did cut rather close, close enough to stir rumours anyway. It seemed funny to her that the story of Neville's parents meeting didn't make it to her generation, she surmised that life just operated like that. Things were always kept from the history books for the sake of propriety.

"Miss Prince if you have time to talk then you have time to sit detention tonight," Frank's harsh voice cut across the room, apparently her response had been louder than she'd originally intended. Snape just raised an eyebrow, as if the Aurors' words proved his accusation of immaturity perfectly. Hermione couldn't help the dread that filled her stomach at the thought of spending the evening with the irate Auror.

….

"Longbottom was a little harsh, don't you think?" Alice asked the group that surrounded her. They were all sat a few corridors away from the Great Hall next to a large window that flooded the quiet hall with light. They always took lunch and tried to find somewhere else to eat, the Hall was always so crowded and hectic at lunch.

"A little," Marlene agreed, the girl was stretched on the ground with her head propped up on her folded arms.

"It was a little odd," Remus admitted reservedly, he had not quite forgotten stumbling upon his stunned best friends after passing the relatively unscathed girl in the hallway. A girl that could recover from a fight that quickly was dangerous in his books.

"The Princes and the Longbottoms share history," Sirius explained briefly as he took a bite of his large sandwich.

"That's a bit immature, picking on a girl because you don't like her last name," Lily accused with a roll of her eyes. Sirius couldn't help the small smile that graced his face at the girl's words. Sometimes her innocence towards the politics of the wizardry world was shocking.

"If she's who she says she is, then her father murdered his grandfather," he enlightened, a dark part of him enjoying the way her jaw slightly dropped at the dramatic revelation.

"M-murdered? Is he in Azkaban?" She stuttered, her green eyes opened widely in shock.

"That's not exactly how things work out sometimes Lily," James answered gently, well aware of how easily it was for a pureblood to flee before they had to pay for their crimes, especially in recent years.

"That's ridiculous," she muttered. "Was there any actual proof?" She pushed in disbelief. "Maybe it's just a rumour," she concluded without waiting for a response.

"Maybe," Sirius allowed apathetically. "Either way I don't see Longbottom laying off of her any time soon," he reasoned as he brushed crumbs off of his bag that he had been using as a makeshift table. As if she'd heard them speaking about her Prince came barrelling around the corner, her eyes too preoccupied with a book she was studying to notice them immediately. The second she spotted them she dropped the book to her side and Sirius swore he saw her finger her wand in her deep uniform pockets.

"Luna," Alice exclaimed with a smile. The girl seemed thrown by the enthusiastic grin and Sirius could just about make out the struggle in her mind as she tried to decide her best move in the social situation.

"Alice," she responded with a nod of her head, her voice was definitely hesitant however.

"Come and sit," Alice said, hopping to her feet to guide the wary girl over towards the group.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to-," Prince began.

"Nonsense," Alice insisted with a small smile, edging the girl towards the group with a few welcoming hand motions. Not for the first time Sirius studied the girl in disbelief, no pureblood would allow themselves to be forced like that, especially by someone of a lower class. Prince was the Lady of her house after all. Her faltering nature went against every Pureblood custom Sirius was brought up on and confused him. Then again, this was the girl that read and played with muggle children.

"Hello, I'm Marlene," she introduced from the ground as soon as Luna had perched on the window sill beside Alice.

"Luna," she replied with a small smile. Sirius's eyebrows shot up when he noticed how she'd nearly extended her hand to shake before catching herself, handshakes are distinctively muggle in origin.

"Remus," the boy chipped in from her left. Prince just nodded not meeting Remus's eyes, an emotion passed across her face before she had the chance to hide it. Sirius wondered briefly if Snape had warned her about his _furry little problem_ but dismissed the idea, the Slytherin was a pest but he'd never risk being removed from the school.

"I suppose you already know James, Peter, Sirius and our Lily flower," Alice chimed in, clearly trying to fill the silence that was beginning to settle awkwardly on the group.

"We've met," Hermione agreed with another nod of her head.

"Indeed we have," James responded, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "I'd be delighted if you returned what you took from my pocket," he concluded, obviously uninterested in playing nice with the girl who had attacked him.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Prince replied shortly.

"I'm sure you do," James countered, never one for niceties.

"Perhaps if you hadn't stalked a seven-year-old girl I would never have met you," she hissed, finally an ounce of the fiery personality Sirius knew she had shone through. "What's the big deal anyway? It was just some scrap parchment, Lestrange had to see me take something," she defended with narrowed eyes.

"Scrap parchment?" James repeated haughtily. Sirius closed his eyes, fearing what the girl would say next.

"I burned it as soon as I got the chance, it was completely blank," she muttered avoiding the boys' expressions of disbelief. "If I had known you had such an attachment to unused parchment I would never have presumed to act so harshly," she added sarcastically. Despite his anger, Sirius noticed how the girls' fingers played with the pages of the book in front of her, the fidgeting stirred suspicion in his mind. Obviously, she was hiding something.

"You burnt it," James and Remus hissed at the same time. They're voices filled with rage, which Sirius could wholeheartedly understand. They both had spent the most time working out the difficult charms that surrounded the map. It had taken years to fathom, and in all honesty was still a work in progress.

"Boys," Marlene castigated firmly. "You'll have to pardon them, apparently parchment and pranks are more important than basic manners," she said to Luna with a small smile, well used to the boy's antics. Sirius shot her a look of disgust, if Marlene knew what the girl had ruined he'd wager she wouldn't be so dismissive. That was the problem about having so many secrets though, occasionally fabrications hid genuine achievements. Sometimes Sirius wished exams came with non-disclosure agreements, just so he could get marked for what was really occupying his time; nobody would ever grade Padfoot.

"You have no idea what you've done," Sirius finally spoke, sickened by the loss of what was to be the Marauder's greatest achievement. He glared threateningly at her and was surprised when she didn't drop her gaze. She seemed to almost challenge him with her big brown eyes that were utterly devoid of any readable emotion. "Why don't you just run off with Snivellus?" He added in disgust.

"Sirius," Lily warned. Sirius sent her a glare too, fed up with her defence of the unsightly boy.

"Gladly," Luna said in response to Sirius's question. She stood quickly with a fierce expression on her delicate features. Sirius didn't say anything, too shocked that she had the cheek to act indignant when it was her that had attacked and stolen from _them_. In one large stride she was out of the circle of friends and stalking off down the hall.

"Sirius," Alice hissed, rising to follow the affronted girl. As she passed she hit him in the back of the head roughly. Sirius rolled his eyes, knowing exactly why Alice was so concerned with Luna. Obviously, she thought the girl could be saved from the Slytherin's influence just as Lily was. Sirius knew better though, there was no saving someone from being raised a Pureblood, not unless that person was willing to lose everything.

"Wait up Luna," he heard Alice shout down the corridor. Sirius didn't bother stopping her, who was he to kill the only olive branch that would be extended to the girl in Gryffindor.

…..

 **Please please please please review (I added another please this week because I'm in desperate need of cheering up :P)**


	10. Chapter 10

**I was so overwhelmed and immensely grateful by all the kind, wonderful reviews. You guys are truly awesome. So awesome in fact that I decided to upload this ridiculously long chapter early.**

 **Special thanks to** **slythrclw-shdwhntr-46, KangBoRam, RememBearMe, Ecwb, Smithback, shelle007, yattsume no taiyo, HGranger89 ninaaaaa, thewinnowingwind, Shola2001, whiteroses1743, Sarahostervig1, Zadria Cerulean and guests. You guys are legends!**

 _O you are not lying in the wet clay,_ _  
_ _For it is a harvest evening now and we_ _  
_ _Are piling up the ricks against the moonlight_ _  
_ _And you smile up at us - eternally._

Patrick Kavanagh

Chapter 10

Hermione meandered along the quiet corridor she'd slipped into to avoid Alice's fabricated apologies. She had no interest in making friends in a time when she had to act so contrary. She couldn't even fathom why Alice would be interested in her as a friend. She had been clear about her opinion on blood purity with her not so subtle query regarding Alice's family. Why would the girl what to pursue a friendship with someone who allegedly despised one of her best friends, the infamous Lily Evans? The same girl whose emerald eyes hurt something so deep inside of her that she couldn't so much as face her, which in turn added to Hermione's prejudice persona. She was glad she was maintaining a shred of the personality Severus had crafted for her, even if it was inadvertently. Hermione was so preoccupied with her suspicious thoughts she didn't even notice the two figures sitting on one of the deep window ledges a little way down the corridor.

"Going for a wander Prince?" A familiar voice called out to her, a grin clear in his voice. Hermione silently berated herself, annoyed that once again her near constant preoccupation had left her vulnerable. Without a second thought her wand was pointed out in front of her, the nerves from the day making the shake in her hand almost preposterous. "Settle down gel," he commented flippantly, his familiar red hair brighter in the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Fabian," she muttered distantly, her heart still racing from fright.

"The one and only," he commented. "This is my brother Gideon," he introduced casually with a wave of his hand towards the man sitting next to him. Hermione took a moment to study Gideon, who was a carbon copy of his brother. He was scrutinising her from above his battered potions textbook that she vaguely recognised. A sandwich lay discarded to his right, obviously she was interrupting something.

"A pleasure," Hermione murmured, not yet lowering her wand.

"Did you hear that Gid? It's a pleasure," Fabian mocked with a raised eyebrow, his incredulous expression directed at her defensive stance explained his glib attitude. Suddenly embarrassed she lowered her wand and conspicuously let her hair cover her face to hide the reddening of her cheeks.

"Don't be a twat," Gideon commented lightly. He assessed her with a cursory glance before returning to his book, obviously not finding anything that merited his attention.

"When am I ever a twat?" Fabian demanded jokingly as he reached over and took the sandwich from his brother's side of the window. Gideon barely spared him an incredulous look, suggesting that his immediate actions were evidence enough.

"You just startled me is all," Hermione muttered, trying her best to hide how uncomfortable the familiar banter felt to her. It wasn't so long ago that she had wandered these halls and would often come across Fred and George scheming up their next prank in hushed tones. They had been happy times, when days were full of light and fun surprises. No matter how much she didn't condone their actions they always tried their best to include her. The Weasleys had been the closest thing she had to family in the wizardry world and the twins never forgot that. They were a constant protective presence in her life, that she would have loathe to admit to their faces, provided much comfort in her early years. A dark shadow grew in her mind when unyielding flashes of Fred's prone body and George's empty eyes came unbidden to her. She flinched violently away from the thoughts.

"Rough first day?" Fabian asked suddenly, mistaking her grief for unease.

"I'm only half way through," Hermione responded evenly, glad for the distraction from the dark recesses of her mind.

"What did you have first?" Gideon asked, not looking up from his book to meet her eye.

"Defence actually," Hermione commented with a shrug of her shoulders that wasn't as casual as she would have liked. Fabian grinned before reaching behind him and producing an apple, he threw it to her expertly, but she barely caught it. Her hand eye coordination, never great to begin with, had worsened as the tremors in her hands had developed.

"Well don't stop there, it sounds like a riveting story," he commanded in what might have been perceived as a sarcastic tone if she hadn't been best friends with his nephew for the better part of seven years. His light blue eyes were so untroubled and full of life that she found herself leaning against the stone wall across from the two boys and sliding to the ground, not quite ready to leave their presence.

"Longbottom hates me," she confided, surprising herself. With a shake of her head at her silliness she took a bite out of her apple.

"Longbottom doesn't hate anyone," Gideon chipped in casually, finally lowering his book to study the girl.

"I think he's made an exception," Hermione answered glibly.

"What did you do? Kill his cat?" Fabian teased lightly before taking a massive bite of his sandwich, emulating his nephew more than he ever had.

"He has a cat?" Hermione asked naively.

"Not anymore apparently," Gideon responded with a small smile. The terribly random joke forced an unwitting laugh from her before she'd even realised what had happened. She hesitated slightly, shocked at how genuine the sensation of humour had felt. After the battle she had thought that laughter would always have to be feigned, which she knew would have been an affront to many people who had lost their lives, but she couldn't help it.

"See," Fabian commented with a wave of his hand in her direction. "It's hardly so bad if you're laughing," he expanded. Hermione rolled her eyes with a small smile that wasn't completely sincere.

"If only that was the sole criterium needed to judge how dire a situation was," Hermione muttered as she placed her head in her hands and released a sigh that straddled the line between exasperation and amused very delicately.

"It's only yourself that complicates things sure," Gideon reasoned with a shrug of his shoulders. He reached his two arms up to place them behind his head before reclining fully against the window and stretching out his legs; the poster boy for tranquillity.

"My father killed his grandfather," Hermione said abruptly, wanting so badly to ruin their comfort. _Didn't they know what was coming?_ She thought angrily. They should have been preparing. Images of Harry, Ron and her relaxing on bright winter afternoons drifted into her mind. If only they'd been prepared for what was to come, maybe then they would have known what to do. Maybe then they wouldn't have fell about the place like a duckling without an imprint.

"Well that changes matters," Fabian granted after finally managing a hard swallow of a bite of his sandwich.

"Does it?" Gideon asked, not even phased by her declaration. He hadn't even sat up from his comfy position. "You can hardly take responsibility for either man's actions," he reasoned with a lazy roll of his eyes. "Frank will come around soon enough," he added when he noticed the dejected expression that covered Hermione's face. The first name threw her for a moment, briefly linking the mean Professor too closely to Neville Longbottom. She supposed the Prewett twins were no stranger to the Auror that was only a few years their senior.

"Some things aren't so simple," Hermione responded, annoyed by his blasé attitude.

"So, what do you have next?" Fabian cut across, obviously believing a change in topic was long overdue.

"Transfiguration," Hermione admitted grimly. She had no desire to sit through class with her childhood role model that now considered her a conceited spoiled pureblood. She took another bite of her apple lethargically.

"Ole Minnie's not too bad," Fabian pacified gently.

"At least you don't have NEWT potions," Gideon muttered as he once again lifted his textbook.

"I'm telling you mate, you should have given that up years ago," Fabian stated with little sympathy.

"And this is the man they made Head Boy," Gideon responded directly to Hermione in such a dry tone that she couldn't supress a small chuckle at the other boy's expense.

"Anything in particular troubling you?" Hermione asked, eyeing the potions book with jealous eyes. She'd give anything for an educational conundrum at that very moment.

"You any good at Potions?" Gideon asked incredulously. Hermione rolled her eyes, obviously the stigma Auror Longbottom had mentioned about home-schooled pureblood witches was accurate. Seeing her jaded expression, he reached down and pushed the open book towards her. "Slughorn said we'd be brewing Draught of the Living Dead today," he explained with a resigned sigh. Hermione lifted the book curiously, Slughorn himself had assigned her the very same challenge but she hadn't been a seventh year, it had been her first day in sixth. She guessed that curriculums changed with time, but a part of her believed that the older man had been assessing the class to spot those he'd like in his little collectors' parties. "I get so stressed trying to get the order right in potions like this," he admitted hesitantly.

"Well, make sure you crush the sopophorous beans with a silver dagger, don't cut them, and thirteen should be used not just twelve. The stirring is listed incorrectly here as well; it should be anticlockwise seven times and clockwise once instead," she imparted before she could help herself, the Half-Blood prince's words just spilling out of her mouth in a rush.

"You're kidding? How are we supposed to get any potion right if the directions aren't even correct," he growled, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. Even though the two boys were identical, there was something about Gideon that resembled Ron more. Whether it was his mannerisms or his aggravated attitude towards Potions, she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but sitting there in the bright stone halls of Hogwarts she could almost pretend that this was just a normal day. Next Ron would insist that they stop by the kitchens before they went anywhere near their next class and then she'd disagree, like she always did, and tell him that he should take his education more seriously. Then it was Harry's turn to chip in and mediate between them, like he always did.

"The directions are more of a guide, there's supposed to be room for creative flair," Hermione mumbled with a small smile. She pushed the heavy textbook back before taking the last bite of her apple hesitantly, it was the first thing she'd eaten all day, besides at breakfast where she'd picked at a slice of toast, too unnerved by Alice's presence to actually digest anything.

"Who needs room for creative flair when you're learning how to brew the thing initially," Fabian criticised with a roll of his eyes. _Severus Snape_ , the name flew through her mind as the obvious answer. Most of the NEWT level courses in Hogwarts were built for people who had a genuine knack for the subject, which was difficult if you just needed the grades to progress in your career choices. Hermione just shrugged non-committedly in response, there was no answer she could provide that would satisfy them. Even she had been annoyed when Harry had progressed ahead of her in Potion's class, admitting that she lacked that knack for potions brewing had been difficult for her. It's difficult to acknowledge imperfection when you feel like you have something to prove.

Suddenly Fabian rose from his seat and took one large stride towards her before sticking out both of his hands in her direction. His abrupt actions put her on edge, but somehow, she managed to prevent herself from withdrawing her wand. His face wore an expectant expression.

"Well come on then Lass, let's get you to ole Minnie's class before your late," he teased with an open happy smile. Hermione had almost forgotten that class was to resume soon enough. Hesitantly she reached out and allowed the boy to lift her to her feet, feeling curiously lighter than she had when she'd first hurried down the corridor.

…

"Your girl is already skipping lunch," Rodolophus muttered with a sly grin. He fell into the seat next to Severus who had been feigning interest in his transfiguration textbook that lay open in front of him, to dissuade people from dragging him into any conversation. He would have gotten through the entirety of the break without uttering a word too if it weren't for Lestrange irritating habit of engaging him about his new 'cousin'. Apparently, the possibility that Severus might be improving his status in society was the most interesting thing to happen in years. He had to resist the urge to snap back a sarcastic response towards the boy that was supposed to garner his admiration.

"I guess so," he muttered back quietly before turning a page in his textbook, just to encourage his preoccupied image. He knew the boy must thing it strange that he wasn't interested in discussing his climb on the social ladder, years ago he'd have given his right leg for this much undivided attention from Rodolophus Lestrange.

"You don't find that concerning?" He asked as he reached for a sandwich. "Who knows whose company the girl could find herself in," he added coyly. If Severus wasn't so sure that the man was already interested in Bellatrix for a wife, he'd almost think that he was angling for her attention.

"I'm sure she just wanted to avoid the majority of Gryffindor house," Severus replied keeping his face clear of the uneasiness that was developing in the pit of his stomach. He had hoped, somewhat naively, that her status wouldn't attract too much notice from his year mates when his intentions were already obvious. He should have known better, there was no loyalty in Slytherin. If she was a better match than Bellatrix, either financially or by status alone, the boy would feel obliged to investigate further.

"This casual attitude is most unlike you, my friend," Rodolophus answered with a raised eyebrow. Severus knew he should be doing his best to emulate his younger self, but he just couldn't muster up the energy to ingratiate himself to the older boy. Years of experience with the pureblood hierarchy had also taught him that the more blasé a person acted the more intriguing they appeared. Intriguing people were always a Pureblood's priority.

"Certain things are written in stone," Severus replied, finally lifting his eyes from the book for more than a moment to study the boy. What he found didn't please him, Slytherin's were taught to be coy and furtive with their inquisitions. Rodolophus was too curious to hide his attentiveness, which was more than a little unsettling for Severus. He was definitely interested in the girl, and something told him that the spoiled boy wouldn't stop his hunt until he'd expended all avenues with the pretty Gryffindor. Severus sighed, knowing that it would be a while before the novelty of the muggleborn would diminish to a satisfactory level. Things moved slowly at Hogwarts, which was blissfully closed off from the gossip of society, besides the occasional morning paper, news tended to last longer.

"Gaining a bit of confidence then Severus?" A feminine voice questioned as she landed heavily in the seat beside him and dropped her hefty bag to the ground. Despite his attempts to supress it, he couldn't help the surge of affection that filled his chest at the sight of the girl so young and carefree. It was a universally acknowledged fact that Andromeda Black wasn't as beautiful as her two sisters, but Severus had always found something appealing in her blunt attitude. Her eyes were always playful and easy to read, and while they lacked that demure quality all pureblood witches strived for, they always held a glimmer of mischief. He had to look away from the girl for a moment to hide a rush of guilt when an image of another girl that had held that same glimmer and a fondness for a certain werewolf flashed before his eyes. The death of Nymphadora had been an appalling tragedy that had hidden itself amongst a number of horrid catastrophes, and while he never allowed himself to know the girl, his faded friendship with her mother had made him feel it keenly.

"Are you implying that I was at one point lacking all confidence?" He asked, injecting just the right amount of indignation to make the girl laugh lightly at his expense.

"You were positively timid," she responded as she reached for some fruit in front of her. Severus felt Rodolophus tense beside him, he held no kind sentiments towards the brunette. In fact, if etiquette didn't demand it, Severus was sure they would have been overtly hostile towards one another. "Rodolophus, darling, perhaps you should be talking to your own intended rather than quizzing Severus about his," she advised with her legendary smirk, her eyes led his down the table towards where Bellatrix sat with her youngest sister. Severus watched them as they joked but didn't miss the surreptitious glances Bellatrix was casting towards Rodolophus.

"I was just heading that way now actually," Rodolophus commented stiffly before standing. He nodded once at Severus before he headed towards the two girls.

"You better be careful," Severus warned despite himself. Andromeda simply raised an eyebrow and sent him a challenging look.

"The Lestranges are harmless," she commented, sending a look down the table towards Rabastan who was currently struggling to butter his bread without tearing it.

"He's not like his brother," Severus added darkly.

"No," she conceded. "I supposed he's not," she admitted as she took a bite out of her pear, a dark look flittering through her eyes. "Mustn't let him get away with everything though," she added, her smile returning. Clearly, she'd overheard their entire conversation before she had taken her seat beside him and had come to the same conclusion that her soon to be brother-in-law's eyes were straying.

"I suppose not," he added, turning a page in his book to end the conversation which was suddenly becoming overwhelming. The untrained eye wouldn't have caught the surreptitious looks that the girl sent towards the Ravenclaw table which were so obvious now, he berated himself for missing them all those years ago. For missing the small smile that graced her face once she'd caught a particular boy's gaze, and the way she'd quickly rid herself of her joy once Severus had raised his head to study her. Andromeda had always been braver than him when they'd been young, she'd never bowed to the insecurities that society sought to impose on them. ' _And that's why',_ he thought darkly, _'she'd received years of joy with Ted Tonks while I had ended up the Dark Lord's right-hand man.'_

….

Lily filed into the familiar transfiguration classroom slowly, lunch had been interesting to say the least. The Prince girl was really beginning to rile the boys up more than she'd ever expected her to. Lily had been beyond astounded when the girl had sauntered over towards the Gryffindor table last night, it just didn't make sense to her. Why would a Pureblood Lady identify as a lion? There was no doubt she had been courageous facing off the three of them that day in the park, but she'd done it in such a surly manor Lily had been sure green was her colour.

Lily took a seat next to Marlene but couldn't help as her eyes drifted to where Prince sat next to her childhood best friend near the back of the room. It seemed like they were destined to sit next to each other in every class. She hated the way her stomach flipped at every look that the dark-haired boy spared the young girl. To everyone else it might have seemed that he was hardly interested in the peculiar girl, but she knew better. She'd seen that same dedication whenever the boy had spotted his mother walking towards the shops on her own or collecting him from school. It was as if he was afraid she'd fall apart at any moment and that he'd have to be there to pick up all the fractured pieces. He cared, which unsettled her more than she'd ever admit.

"Welcome back everyone, I'm sure you've all had a very _restful_ Yule but it's time to get back to work," Professor McGonagall called from the front of the classroom much to the chagrin of the class that universally released a resigned sigh. "If you could please pass your winter assignments towards the front of the classroom please," she commanded authoritatively. Lily watched as the older woman's eyes settled near the area of the classroom where she knew the Prince girl resided without any work. For a moment Lily felt a little satisfaction at the girl's expense which she quickly attempted to convert into pity. She tried to contemplate how awful it must feel to be years behind everyone else just because your parents had decided that your education wasn't worth their attention, but she couldn't supress a little glee. She could admit to herself that she found some solace in the fact that at least she had always challenged Severus, she wasn't some princess that was only known for her looks.

"Today we will be beginning the difficult subject of human transfiguration which will be a requirement for your NEWT levels," she declared primly. "There will be no room for horseplay," here her narrowed eyes settled on the Marauders, "or the fainthearted," she continued, her gaze once again falling in the direction of the Prince girl. "This is not an easy topic, nor is it one without risk so please _tread carefully_ ," She implored with a jaded expression that suggested that the subject was a challenge to teach every year and provided her with much exasperation. She withdrew her wand with an elegant flourish before waving it in a complex motion above her left hand.

"Mutare Manu Leonis," She called clearly, to the classes surprise her hand immediately changed into the immaculate paw of a lion. A few loud exclamations forced a small smile onto the older woman's face which she quickly supressed. "Please turn to page seventy-six and begin to attempt the spell. I will be providing individual tutelage during the duration of the class due to this spells complexity. I ask that you do not panic if you don't manage this spell immediately, for most it can take weeks," she finished before effortlessly reversing the spell on her hand and beginning to instruct the first pair of students to the right in the front row. Lily noticed, with barely contained amusement, that the woman had taken the quickest route towards Lady Prince.

"What's got you so smiley?" Marlene questioned miserably, startling the redhead from her thoughts. Lily quickly wiped the smile from her face before turning towards her friend.

"I just think human transfiguration is pretty interesting," Lily muttered. "Nothing to be pouting about anyway," she added when she noticed the despondent way Marlene opened her textbook.

"Sometimes I hate how cheery you are," the girl muttered under her breath which only succeeded in returning Lily's smile. Lily would have been surprised if even Professor McGonagall didn't know how much Marlene detested transfiguration, which was a requirement for the Healer course she had her heart set on. "Let's get this started before McGonagall gets over here," she continued throwing a panicked look at the teacher who'd by now moved onto the second table. Lily felt decidedly less worried at her approach, knowing that between her and the teacher was one Miss Prince, who she knew would hold up the Professor for a considerable amount of time.

"Snape and Luna aren't even trying yet," Marlene muttered with a shake of her head, she'd obviously come to the same conclusion as Lily. As inconspicuously as possible, Lily turned her head and noticed that the pair were indeed neglecting their practice. Their books were open, but they were occupied by what seemed like an intense conversation. Lily tried her best to listen in, but to her own bewilderment, could only hear a faint buzzing when she tried to focus on the pair. Finally, seeming annoyed, Luna rolled her head and nodded at the boy who looked just as irritated with her.

 _Trouble in Paradise_ , Lily thought smugly.

A few minutes later both Lily and Marlene paused in their furious practiced ministrations to listen as the strict Professor approached the couple who had halted their bickering. Lily noticed a few other tables pause in unison, the new girl was apparently more interesting than the difficult spell.

"Miss Prince, perhaps you'd like to demonstrate the spell. Seeing as you clearly feel you don't need any practice," McGonagall called, in a louder tone than she'd spoken in to the tables beforehand. It was obvious she wanted to make an example of the girl who'd had the audacity to enter her classroom without the required Exceeds Expectation in the OWLs. Luna passed one more biting look at Snape before she lifted her wand and waved it over her hand to produce a paw so perfect it rivalled even the Professor's demonstration. Lily was sure that the class held their breath at the girl's success, waiting for the austere woman's reaction. McGonagall bent down and used her wand to turn over the girl's paw/hand to examine the finer details.

"Extraordinary work Miss Prince, and silently too," Professor McGonagall muttered, that was the thing about the woman, she'd never deny excellence even if it might have felt like swallowing a lemon whole. "I wasn't aware you had been educated in Transfiguration," she continued, not removing her eyes from the flawless paw.

"You think I would enter a NEWT level class without any idea of the subject Professor? You must think me extraordinarily arrogant," Luna murmured with a small smile, that Lily was shocked to see the older woman returned.

"I wonder where I could have gotten that idea Miss _Prince,_ " Professor McGonagall replied with enough inflection on her name to tell the whole class exactly where the inkling had come from. "You must have had an extraordinary tutor during your home-schooling," she granted curiously. "I only know a hand full of people who could manage that spell as effortlessly as you did just there," she continued much to Lily's vexation.

"She was pretty amazing," Luna replied with the first genuine smile Lily had ever seen her wear. McGonagall paused for a moment, perhaps hoping the girl would expand on her comment, but when it became clear she was finished sharing she nodded.

"20 points to Gryffindor," she stated with a smile, her eyes assessed the girl once more before she shifted her attention towards the Slytherin to her right. "Have you been so fortunate to benefit from your partners wisdom?" Professor McGonagall asked Severus, her cold tone, which she reserved for particularly bothersome students, once again returning. Lily watched as the boy attempted the spell, granted with words, and managed to achieve a passible result, nowhere near the level of complexity Luna had, but still a remarkable feat. "Impressive Mr Snape, 5 points to Gryffindor," she allowed before she moved onto the next table.

Lily turned around to face the front of the classroom with a shocked expression painted on her pretty face. _A hand full of people?_ Lily thought vehemently. How did the girl manage to get a better education than one of the best schools in the world at home?

"Thank Merlin," Marlene muttered in relief when she was sure McGonagall was far enough away from Luna. "I was worried there for a moment Luna would be in trouble," she continued as she shook her head before leaning down and rereading the directions in her book.

"Yeah," Lily muttered. "Thank Merlin," she repeated quietly. Once more she turned to watch as Luna flipped apathetically through her textbook, completely oblivious that the boy beside her lifted his gaze to study her every few moments. Though his eyes were completely devoid of emotion Lily knew then and there that he was concerned for the headstrong girl. Not too long-ago Lily herself had been on the receiving end of those looks and she couldn't help but hate that she'd been replaced so quickly, but more than anything she hated that she cared.

….

Hermione sat at the end of the Gryffindor table quietly fuming with her defence textbook wide open in front of her, hoping against hope that its presence might dissuade people from sitting down next to her. She was early for dinner and only a few seats at the table were filled, meaning that at least no one would be forced to sit by her which she was grateful for. She was still so filled with fury that Severus had insisted she perfect the spell in front of the whole class. Could he not see that they were drawing unnecessary attention to themselves? Sometimes she thought he really didn't want to go back to the future, that he was plotting a way to stay. Then she always berated herself, not trusting Snape had always been a mistake throughout her entire childhood. To her immense surprise someone she never expected sat down across from her, as if it were the most casual action in the world. His prematurely greying hair stuck out like a sore thumb and she had to wonder how anyone hadn't discovered the boy's secret

"Aren't you going to eat?" He asked and although his words were blunt there was a refined quality to them that verged on nostalgic for Hermione.

"I hadn't really thought about it," she replied honestly. Her eyes lifted to assess the wonderful selection of food that rested at the centre of the table. Her stomach turned at the idea of eating, her appetite had become almost non-existent since her journey to the past had commenced. She had only walked into the Great Hall because some ingrained internal clock had insisted upon it. It seemed her Hogwarts' habits hadn't diminished in her year long absence.

"It's pretty good stuff," Remus muttered as he shovelled a heap of potato onto his plate. He paused his movements for a moment before he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Listen I just wanted to say sorry for how I behaved earlier. On the paper was a project I'd been working on for quite some time and it really hurt to lose it," he confided with a small smile. "I know how tough it can be when you feel like the odd man out, especially when it must have seemed like they were harassing you and your friends over Yule," he continued. "Anyway, it's no excuse so I'm sorry," he finished with a glimmer of friendship shining brightly in his familiar brown eyes. The same brown eyes that had excitedly shown her the pictures of his new born son. The same brown eyes that had remained emptily open as he had stared at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Hermione felt sick.

"So, can we start again?" He questioned, not losing his smile or seeming at all deterred by her silence. Hermione could only nod weakly in return, the smell of beef dinner suddenly nauseating. Marlene landed heavily into the space beside Remus with a resigned sigh.

"First day back and I'm already counting down the days until our next holiday," she declared exhaustedly, completely dismissing any form of introduction. "Well done in Transfiguration today Luna," she added with a grin. "McGonagall really looked like she'd regretted pestering you," she continued as she reached for a chip and popped it into her mouth after dipping it in some gravy. Hermione just waved her hand modestly, attempting to dismiss the compliment. She was, after all, nearly two years older than them.

"You must have studied pretty intensively for that?" Remus asked as he and Marlene fought for a particularly nice-looking chip that had caught both their attention. Seeing her old Professor act so youthfully thankfully managed to put some distance between him and the man she had once known. Slowly the knot in her stomach settled bit by bit.

"It's really not that big a deal," she tried to dismiss once more.

"Alright Miss Modest," Marlene allowed with a smile. "Any other magical feats of genius _that aren't that big a deal_ up your sleeve?" She questioned with a grin. Hermione shook her head but couldn't manage not to return the smile that was so genuinely given. James landed into the seat beside her so abruptly she jumped slightly.

"Jittery much Prince?" James questioned with a raised eyebrow. Hermione just shook her head, wondering bemusedly how suddenly all her year mates had decided to gather around her. "Sorry about earlier, maybe if we stop stalking you maybe you could stay away from our things?" James asked lightly, obviously his anger from earlier having dissipated.

"Maybe," Hermione granted slowly, she didn't miss that Sirius who had sat next to Remus was remaining stubbornly quiet. She was beyond grateful, already completely overwhelmed.

"You know you don't say very much," James continued as he gathered his dinner. "Unless of course we're asking little girls' questions," he muttered with a warm smile, she could tell that the comment was meant to be taken lightly but something about it rubbed her the wrong way.

"Don't talk about Olive," she warned before she could help herself. James seemed a little taken back by the comment, but he nodded anyway.

"Not so proud of your dalliance with muggles now that you're at Hogwarts, Prince?" Black questioned from across the table.

"Sirius," Alice hissed as she took the seat to the left of Hermione who glared at the dark-haired boy furiously. She noticed Lily following suit sending her a curious look.

"Of the two of us _Black,_ I don't think it's your family that has the higher moral ground here," she hissed, finally reaching her limit of snarky comments from the population of Hogwarts for the day. The hostility of her words surprised even her. A furious expression grew on Sirius's face at her words and a hush grew at the table.

"My problem isn't your last name _Lady Prince,_ it's entirely you that pisses me off. At least I don't believe in that pureblood tosh, but don't think I don't see the way you look at Lily," Sirius responded bitingly. His grey eyes bored into hers so aggressively that she had to will herself not to break eye contact. It boiled her blood that she couldn't rebut his claims without spoiling her cover.

"Sirius," Remus warned darkly.

"Well how's my new best friend?" A masculine voice called from beside her. In the corner of her eyes she watched as Alice and James, on either side of her, were pushed down the table only to be replaced by two red headed boys. Fabian, who'd spoken, ruffled her hair in an overtly affection way that distracted her temporarily from her glaring match.

"Woah, is it tense at this little section of the table or what?" Gideon commented as he pushed James's plate down to the disgruntled boy before he gathered his own.

"Gideon, Fabian," Remus greeted perplexedly.

"Remus my dear boy, so good to see you," the Head Boy announced as he reached for the chips that were magically refilling as they spoke.

"I hope you're not aggravating my good friend," Gideon commented lightly as he threw an arm over her shoulder. To say she was bewildered by their actions would be an understatement of grand proportions.

"So, you've met then?" Marlene asked with an inquisitive smile.

"Hermione and I go way back," Fabian divulged with a wicked smirk. Hermione felt Gideon fiddle around in his robe pocket beside her for a minute before he produced a little vial for her attention.

"All down to you love," Gideon answered.

"A whole vial of Liquid Luck," Fabian expanded. "Think of the possibilities," he muttered more to himself than Hermione. Dread filled the pit of her stomach. Had her few words of advice really had such a massive impact on the boys, and if so who had she deprived of the reward? Whose future had she so gravely changed?

"Well don't look so worried lass," Gideon muttered with a grin. "We aren't planning anything too lethal," he added boisterously as he used the arm wrapped around her shoulders to pull her closer to him in a rough hug.

"Ever known anyone to use the stuff before? Seeing as you are the potion's queen," Fabian questioned as he shovelled some food into Hermione's empty plate. She was so distraught that she didn't even remember to raise her Occlumency shields.

"Oh Merlin, you totally do," Marlene commented as she easily read the expression on the brunette's face.

"You know it's a controlled substance," Lily informed aghast from down the table, now that two people were between her and Hermione she had to lean forward to address the whole table.

"It was completely legal," Hermione defended weakly, erecting her Occlumency shields in a rush.

"What did the lass do?" Fabian asked, pausing momentarily in his quest to fill her plate to the brim with random foods. Hermione rolled her eyes, suspicious that he was really searching for ideas rather than being genuinely curious. She looked around at the expectant expressions that surrounded her. Even Sirius looked interested, though he was trying his best to hide it.

" _He_ attended an arachnids funeral," she responded truthfully as she lifted a bite of the food that Fabian had piled onto her plate to her lips, if only for the distraction.

"And that was lucky?" Gideon questioned, somehow managing to mix bemusement and disgust into his tone.

"Exceptionally," she answered. "It's a very long story," she added when she noticed that conversation hadn't picked up, everyone expecting her to continue with her tale.

"Poor bloke," Fabian muttered. "Merlin, I hate spiders," he added lowly as he shuddered involuntarily. Hermione had to supress a smile at the familiar words.

"I don't think he was particularly fond of them either," she agreed with a nod, though she couldn't quite meet their eyes.

"Well congratulations lads," Alice chimed in. "Don't do anything too crazy," she warned, but clearly her words were going unheard.

"We simply have to celebrate," Fabian declared suddenly. "The seventh years are planning a little 'first day back' party if you're up for coming?" he asked, addressing Hermione. "Of course, all of you are welcome?" He added, readjusting to include the large group of sixth years into the discussion with a wave of his hands. Hermione noticed the smile of glee that sprouted on Marlene's face for a moment before she quickly supressed it.

"Sorry, I have detention tonight," Hermione responded, not that she would have even considered going anyway. Even in her own time she'd only gone to the Quidditch parties because Harry and Ron had insisted, and if she was being completely honest because she enjoyed seeing Harry happy. So many dreadful things constantly bombarded his life that it made watching him laugh, just like everyone else, quite the refreshing sight.

"On the first day? You work fast," Gideon commented with a grin.

"Longbottom," Hermione explained simply. Again, she reached for another bite of the haphazard dinner in front of her just to spare her from speaking for a few moments.

"Hard luck, well we'll be seeing you around at least," Fabian replied, once more ruffling her unruly hair. Hermione glared at him before batting away his hand, which seemed to only increase his level of amusement. Just as suddenly as they had sat down they both rose simultaneously, carrying their packed plates with them.

"See you Luna," Gideon saluted before they both made their way down to the bottom of the table once more where the majority of the seventh years were sat. Hermione shook her head, completely thrown by their abrupt whirlwind of a visit.

"Ugh," Marlene groaned in irritation. "We were so nearly in," she continued dramatically.

"Excuse me?" Hermione questioned curiously, unaware of what she'd missed in the conversation that the girl had managed to glean.

"The Prewetts throw the best parties but we're never invited," Alice responded as she pushed her way back up the table and beside Hermione once again.

"Even the fifth year Hufflepuffs were invited to their Yule Party," Marlene complained as she aggressively stabbed a chip.

"And why aren't you invited?" Hermione questioned, pushing her plate of food away, her appetite once again lost.

"Let's just say they aren't overly fond of a certain group of boys," Alice said as she sent a glare in the direction of each member of the Marauders, which only succeeded in confusing Hermione more.

"Hey!" James complained loudly. "That theory was never proven," he rectified, raising his hands in an appeasing gesture.

"They stay a mile away from you any chance they can get," Lily chimed in from the bottom of the table. Suddenly Peter Pettigrew landed into the seat next to Marlene with a heavy sigh.

"Remind me why I take divination again?" He muttered as he immediately began to fill his plate. His presence was the last straw for Hermione's already fraying patience. In a rush she stood and started to gather her books into her bag carelessly.

"Leaving already Luna?" Marlene questioned.

"You hardly ate anything?" Remus muttered in exasperation.

"Detention," Hermione explained before promptly hurrying away from the table, even though detention wasn't to begin for another two hours. As soon as she inhaled the seemingly fresher air outside of the Great Hall she felt the relief seep into her bones. Sometimes it was as if every single person that associated with her in the past placed a lead weight on her soul, just begging her to save them from their fates. She wondered futilely how long it would take for her to get weighed down, or if she'd even have the strength to carry them all without taking action.

…

Frank Longbottom was not having a good day. The brief period he'd spent teaching at Hogwarts already felt excessive from his perspective. The appearance of a certain pureblood heiress had done little to ameliorate his mood for the day. He watched as a young muggleborn boy sat alone in his classroom in one of the front desks. Impatiently he lifted his watch from from the table, it had been irritating his wrist, and noted the time. He sighed, she wasn't even late yet. The _eager to please_ first year had arrived nearly fifteen minutes early to detention, skewing his view on the time. The boy sniffled quietly, and Frank couldn't help the stab of guilt that shot through his heart.

After what felt like ages a timid knock on the classroom door startled him from his musings. Standing abruptly, he stalked towards the door quickly, making the already nervous boy jump slightly at the sudden movement. He opened the door with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

"You're late," he lied the second his eyes fell on the Prince girl. Her brown eyes widened at his declaration but other than that she remained expressionless, leading Frank to believe the girl had been educated in the mind arts. To his surprise she didn't try to argue with his assessment, like a small part of him at been hoping for, instead she just nodded weakly in return. He tried not to notice the dark shadows that lay beneath her eyes, which he found uncomfortably humanising. He knew there was nothing even remotely natural about the Princes.

He turned his back on her and led her to the front of the class where he pointed at the free space beside the first year, who was currently trying his best to hide his sniffles. Dutifully she sat without complaint, but she didn't raise her eyes to meet his. Instead she stared at her hands which rested on top of the old wooden desk, contrasting strongly with her pale skin.

"I want two rolls of parchments on how important it is to stay quiet during class," he ordered. He watched as her eyebrows lifted in confusion, obviously she'd been expecting something harsher. "If you don't finish today then you'll be back in here tomorrow night," Frank insisted strictly, surprised when the impossible length didn't even seem to phase her. "I have a meeting in my quarters, so I expect absolute silence," he commanded authoritatively. She nodded once, still not deigning to speak to him, which only seemed to incense him further. Releasing a long breath of frustration, he turned and headed towards the door to his office and continued towards his private quarters.

"Sorry about that Albus, I had to sort out detentions. You wouldn't mind if I threw up an _Audi Secretum,_ would you? I've asked them to be quiet?" He posed towards the elderly man who had already taken the liberty of ordering tea from the house elves. At that very moment he was stirring his tea with a spoon wandlessly, as if the great feat of magic was nothing at all.

"Not at all my boy," Albus condoned with a wave of his hand dismissively. "Detention already? Must be quite the troublemakers," he continued as he dropped two extra sugar cubes into his tea. Frank only nodded non-committedly in response before throwing up the wards, not surprised when he heard absolute silence from the classroom.

"How'd things with the Order meeting go? I'm sorry I couldn't attend last week," Frank began, changing the topic. He reached for the silver tea pot and began to pour himself a nice black cup, just the way he liked it, having never been a fan of milk.

"Not to worry, I understand that duty calls," he responded, referring to the mission Moody had sent him on over the holidays. "I fear things are growing darker out there. Muggleborns are going missing before their letters are even being sent," he elucidated gravely. "It appears, just as you suspected, the Ministry have been covering up the number of registered muggleborn disappearances," he concluded.

"Damn it," Frank cursed loudly. "I knew that things would be bad when I stumbled upon that muggle detective that some how managed to evade the Ministry, but this? Covering up children's deaths? It's unforgivable," he finished in little more than a whisper. He placed his head in his hands and furiously rubbed his eyes, trying his best to quench his rapidly rising anger.

"We must not lose sight of our goals Frank, there is still good in this world," Albus said as he laid his cup down on the table gently. Reaching over he gripped Frank's arm tightly. "There is still good here," he repeated once he had caught his gaze.

"What ever good that's left is struggling, its fate dwindles with every passing day," Frank mumbled in defeat. Albus opened his mouth to reply but before he could a feminine voice echoed though the room. Jumping slightly, having forgotten entirely about the eavesdropping charm he installed, his eyes locked once more with his old headmaster.

"What has you so upset?" He heard Prince mutter to, he presumed, the distressed boy Frank had left her with. It took a moment but eventually the boy gave a reply that was drenched in tears.

"All of my teachers hate me," he mumbled.

"Sorry about this Albus, I'll just cancel it," Frank muttered reaching for his wand but Albus raised his hand to halt him.

"One moment, I admit I have been curious about the Prince heiress for some time," Albus explained in a hushed tone. How he knew, from one sentence, the girl in his detention was Lady Prince, Frank didn't think he'd ever know.

"I sincerely doubt that," Luna's voice answered back. Frank's eyebrows raised slightly, he didn't think he'd ever heard a Pureblood heiress speak with such a kind tone.

"It's true," the boy wailed, once again Frank felt guilt fill his chest at the pain in the boy's voice. "I didn't do any of my winter assignments," he continued, as if the first sentence had opened the flood gates to all his pent of emotions. Frank watched as Albus listened intently to the conversation.

"Well, why is that?" She questioned in a practical tone.

"My parents l-l-locked away my trunk for the holidays," he moaned miserably.

"Why would they do something like that?" Luna questioned. Frank froze at the direction the discussion was taking, having guessed immediately why the boy's parents wouldn't want his trunk around the house.

"They think it's e-e-e-evil," he explained wretchedly. _And now the girl knew_ , Frank thought pessimistically.

"I'm Luna," the girl suddenly introduced, shocking Frank. The first year Hufflepuff was probably the only person in the entire school that didn't know of Luna Prince's origins.

"Albert," he muttered dejectedly.

"Well Albert, I think it's about time I taught you something that it took me years to learn," she declared, in an oddly practical tone of voice. Franks wand slipped out of his hollister as he prepared himself to jump into action at any sound of foul play. "Not all grown ups know what they're talking about, in fact, some of them are ridiculously moronic," she recounted, in what Frank supposed was an attempt to cheer him up.

"Why?" He heard the boy ask through his sniffles.

"Because they're scared," she answered easily.

"Of what?" He countered.

"Of anything and everything," Luna replied immediately. "Have you told anyone about this?" she pressed on.

"N-n-no, just you," Albert muttered. Obviously tonight had been the end of the eleven-year olds tether, Frank supposed grimly. "Please don't tell," he implored with a hiccup. "They're not so bad," he defended immediately.

"I had a friend like you once," Luna whispered after a pregnant pause.

"What happened to him?" The boy asked.

"He was just fine," she reassured, having apparently reconsidered her choice of confiding in the boy. "Just like you will be," she added.

"How can I be when my teachers all think I'm lazy? The Slytherins are already calling me the stupid Mudblood," he wailed, his previous calm completely disappearing. Why Albert was picking Luna Prince to divulge to about his blood supremacy issues Frank couldn't even suppose. _Couldn't he tell she was a Pureblood? Couldn't he read it in the expression of distain that was probably painted on her face?_ He thought, completely bewildered.

"Don't ever call yourself that," she commanded firmly, astonishing Frank. "You're just going to have to work twice as hard to keep up for a few weeks that's all. You have nothing to prove here Albert. This is where you belong," she told, annunciating each word to get her point across. With a flick of his wrist Albus cancelled the listening charm effortlessly.

"Not what you'd been expecting?" The older man quizzed, his light blue eyes twinkling. He reached down and lifted his cup of tea once more, as if the conversation had been completely ordinary.

"Excuse me?" Frank questioned at the odd inquiry.

"Oh, please Frank, I'm old not senile," Albus responded with a small smile. "It was no coincidence that Albert Connelly, a muggleborn, was sat next to Lady Prince tonight," he clarified slowly. Frank dropped his gaze, ashamed that the Headmaster had seen right through him. Suddenly he wasn't an Auror, but an unruly student caught in the act of double-dealing. "What exactly did you want me to witness with that well-placed _Audi Secretum_?" He questioned before he took a long sup of his tea.

"I don't know," Frank admitted exhaustedly. The girl had completely shocked him with the kind words she'd mumbled when no one was looking. He'd half expected carnage.

"Perhaps there is more good in this world than you think, if only you were willing to see it," Albus remarked, his light blue eyes studying the Auror.

"Perhaps," he muttered more to himself, unable to excuse his actions. The heiress of the Prince title and wealth certainly had discombobulated him. He dropped his head into his hands once again that night and heaved a sigh. He wondered if, unintentionally, he was creating his own enemies. He shook his head regretfully, Merlin knew he had enough people to fight without creating more. His gaze drifted towards the heavy door that led to his classroom. Could he really pretend he hadn't been waiting since he'd heard his grandfather had fallen at the hands of a Prince all those years ago, for a fight. Waiting to battle the malevolent Prince household? Perhaps, indeed, his enemy was already long dead.

 **Please please please review. I hope you know that every single one encourages me! I hope I haven't overloaded you with characters the last few chapters. I promise some plot development soon, I pinky promise in fact :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**So, a little apology for making a few small mistakes in the previous chapter. McGonagall rewarded points to Gryffindor instead of Slytherin for Snape and Fabian used the name Hermione instead of Luna. I'll be sure to correct these issues when I have time to fix the last few chapters.**

 **Thanks so much for all the kind reviews a special shout out to slythrclw-shdwhntr-46, burungmalam, Tsukiyo Akito, Fantasyprone, HGranger89, Ecwb, Shola2001, yattsume no taiyo, Anon, plutoplex, ante-diem, Sarahostervig1, ninaaaaa, winterydrews, Zadria Cerulean, Smithback, butterfly363, thewinnowingwind, actionliker and guests! You guys are truly awesome.**

 **Chapter 11**

 _I will arise and go now, for always night and day_

 _I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;_

 _While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,_

 _I hear it in the deep heart's core._

 _-Willian Butler Yeats_

Hermione dragged her feet down towards the dungeons, it was her first potions class and she was not looking forward to it. She could scarcely think of anyone who wouldn't dread being partnered with Snape for this particular class. Even Hermione, who always sought to see the best in all her previous educators, could admit that he was an overbearing, overly critical Professor who had little interest in his students. With foresight, she could see that the stoic man had had many other things on his mind, from Dark Lords to a corrupt Ministry, he had been there through it all. Regardless of his persona in the classroom he had always concerned himself with their safety, even if they had never made it especially easy for him. She vividly remembered how he had jumped in front of Harry, Ron and her when Remus had begun his transformation back in her third year. She wondered briefly how much it must have hurt, for a natural protector of children like him, to look at the Dark Lord's victims with casual disinterest. Indeed, there must have been many people, perhaps even past students, that had looked at him with hope in their pained eyes that he had had to dismantle cruelly.

"Come on Luna, you don't want to be late the first time you meet Slughorn," Alice called from a few paces in front of her with a large smile. The morning was bright and flooded light into the corridor through the stained-glass windows. Hermione watched as Alice turned and started to walk backwards in front of her. "Not a fan of Potions?" She asked with a bright smile. The coloured light bathed her periodically in an ethereal glow every time she hurried passed a window, unsettling Hermione.

"Not particularly," she answered as she gripped the handle of her bag tightly in her arms. They turned and began their descent into the dungeons with a bit more speed.

"I'm not surprised, the educational focus must have been on Transfiguration at home?" Alice asked as she turned and gripped the handle of the staircase.

"Something like that," Hermione answered. If she were being honest she wouldn't be able to select an 'educational focus' for her time at Hogwarts. Although her Professors in Defence had been helpless, she'd always studied the subject more than any other. Did that make it the focus? Certainly, Dumbledore had never intended it to be.

"Don't worry, partner with me and I'll get you through it," Alice stated kindly. Hermione nodded with a smile, already knowing that when they arrived in the classroom only two seats would be left. One for Alice beside some Gryffindor and the other beside Severus Snape, the man that confused her more than any other subject ever had.

Finally, they reached the classroom just as the muffled bell sounded the beginning of class. The room itself was the exact same as had been in her time, obviously Snape had spent little time decorating. Slughorn stood at the front of the class, with a stirring spoon in his hand, peering over a steaming pot of something she couldn't place from the angle she was stood. The image though, was so familiar Hermione paused. Next the man would lean over and inhale deeply before a large smile would grace his plump cheeks. Ron would whisper something exasperating in her ear about how potions weren't even necessary in the _real world_. While Harry, who had grown suspicious and solemn, would be too interested in his textbook written by 'The Half-blood Prince', who's name at that time had been naught but a riddle. She'd tell him to put the book down and pay attention, but deep down she'd want to know whose scrawled handwriting covered the book from back to front. She guessed that some knowledge came at a price.

"I can sit next to him if you want?" Alice muttered considerately from beside her. Hermione shook her head from her reminiscing and took a moment to comprehend what she had meant. Belatedly she noticed that her suspicions had proved true, the only seats left in the class were beside Lily Evans, near the back and Severus Snape, near the front. It left her wondering if the uneven number had forced him to brew by himself for his final few years at Hogwarts, and if so whether that had bothered him.

"Nonsense, I don't mind being near the front," she returned, deciding to ignore what Alice had really been suggesting. The idea that Alice was so against Severus's presence in her life was confusing, what had he done to merit the sweet girl's ire?

Hermione was glad that the students hadn't been called to a silence by Slughorn yet. Relatively unnoticed she meandered her way towards the front of the classroom and landed heavily into the seat beside Snape. The boy didn't so much as raise his head to acknowledge her, instead he just continued to pour over the Potion's textbook that she guessed he must have known off by heart. With bated breath she studied the messy hand writing in the corners of the book that were so familiar. It was surreal to watch the book develop into the transcript that had haunted her best friend's dreams.

"Well if it isn't our new student," Slughorn's booming voice spoke from beside her making her jump in fright. She'd been so consumed with her examination of the book she hadn't even notice the older man approach her. "So good to see you dear. There hasn't been a Prince in these halls in too long, too long indeed," he muttered more to himself as he smiled so wide that all of his teeth were displayed. Hermione had to hold back a chuckle, Slughorn might have been one of the only people in the whole of Hogwarts that was happy about the reappearance of the Prince line.

"It's good to be here Sir," she answered simply, hoping the small acknowledgment would satisfy the man; no such luck.

"It was such a lovely surprise when the Headmaster mentioned you would be in attendance this year," he continued, completely oblivious to Hermione's growing discomfort. "I must confess I hadn't even known there was a Prince heir," he said, as if this was a scandalous fact. By now the whole class was beginning to focus on the Professor's one-sided discussion. "What with the early demise of your father…," he paused for a moment, perhaps realising that the conversation had strayed into uncomfortable grounds, before coughing and folding his arms. A bashful expression finally growing on his face.

"Professor, are we really making shrinking solution today?" Snape questioned, somehow managing to rid his voice of any possible exuberance. Hermione wasn't sure if it was the floundering Professor Snape was saving from the situation, or her. Her cheeks had grown red from the attention of the room.

"Of course, my boy," he muttered, clinging to the subject change. "I hope you'll be able to keep up Lady Prince, it's been a while since our Severus here has had anyone meet his standards," Slughorn continued, gesturing to the favoured student who Hermione was sure had to supress an eye roll at the older man's words. She didn't miss that Slughorn had used her title to address her. There was no doubt that the potion's Professor was a calculating man. He was by no means short-sighted, he knew that students grew into influential people, but she knew that he considered the youth of his students an advantage. Here was a time when a few extra house points would ingratiate an elderly Professor to a Lady of a most noble house forever.

"I'll try my best," Hermione muttered. The professor nodded before he withdrew from the conversation and began to discuss the potion with the entire class, who Hermione noticed only listened half-heartedly. She had to hold back a smirk, there was no way Professor Snape would have put up with such casual disinterest from his class. Every student had sat on the edge of their seats when he had spoken.

"I'll get the ingredients," Snape declared when students began to rise from their seats. Hermione startled, having zoned out during Slughorn's introduction, which had been a word by word rendition of their textbook.

"Thanks," she called after him. With little enthusiasm she began to prepare the work bench, enjoying the preoccupation massively. She placed all the knifes in order that they would be used and placed the empty cauldron on to simmer, as the directions requested. Eventually Snape returned and began to place the ingredients around the set up she'd devised. Silently they worked on preparing the station, both already so acquainted with the potion that no books had to be examined. She noted curiously how Snape stirred the Potion after the Shrivelfigs were added, a question bubbled to the forefront of her mind, but she managed to supress it.

"Well spit it out girl, before you explode," Snape's monotonous voice interrupted her musings. It didn't take long for her to understand what he had been asking, she wasn't completely oblivious to the fact that she wore her emotions on her sleeve when her Occlumency shields were down.

"You stirred after the Shrivelfigs?" She settled on after a moment's pause. He paused his chopping for a minute to lift his gaze to hers.

"It increases potency," he responded, his voice losing its condescension briefly. She nodded sharply, feeling oddly jittery for some reason. She reached out for her own knife and began to prepare the daisy root but hesitated when she noticed her hands had begun their annoying habit of shaking. She watched the tremors spread from her fingers until they had fully taken control of her hands. Immediately she dropped the knife on the counter as casually as she could manage before she moved her hands behind her back. Something must have caught Snape's eye however, as before she'd managed to hide them from sight he'd reached out and gripped one of her wrists tightly.

"Excuse me," she hissed, trying to jerk her hand away from his vice-like grasp. An unrecognisable emotion flittered across Snape's face as he studied her juddering hand, completely ignoring her complaints. Even through the Occlumency Hermione could see the darkness descend in the older man's preoccupied mind. As suddenly as he had gripped her he pushed her back and picked up his own knife. Fleetingly he looked around the room before he brought the knife down on his own hand, swiftly opening a substantial cut at the centre of his palm. Hermione didn't even have time to react before his blood began to gush out of the wound. With little fan fair, completely ignoring her squawk of indignation, he grabbed a white cloth and pushed down on the laceration.

"Professor?" Snape called across the room towards the Potions Professor who had been lecturing a Slytherin, Hermione didn't recognise, on the importance of cauldron bottom maintenance. The man turned, his eyes widening almost comically at the state of Severus's by then bloody uniform.

"Severus, my boy?" He inquired in disbelief as he stalked across the classroom towards his prized student.

"I think I've nicked the muscles in my hand Sir," Severus explained calmly. Slughorn looked on, completely baffled. "So, I might need to go to the hospital wing," he concluded, obviously irritated that he had to lead the conversation because the Professor was taking so long to get to grips with the situation.

"But of course," Slughorn muttered. "It's just a bit of a shock, I must say from the way Lady Prince was preparing her ingredients I thought you'd be well on your way to a marvellous Shrinking Solution," he continued hurriedly as he handed Severus a clean white handkerchief from his small waistcoat pocket. "You will accompany him to the hospital wing, my dear?" He questioned distractedly, his eyes never leaving Severus's pale hand to address Hermione.

"Of course," Hermione answered automatically, she had long since concluded that this had been Snape's preferred outcome anyway. Awkwardly, she scrambled to gather both her and Snape's equipment into their bookbags. She could feel the eyes of the rest of the students, no doubt thinking that the stupid new girl had ruined the best student in the classes potion. She rolled her eyes, wondering if Snape had even considered his inadvertent propagation of her 'ignorant home-schooled witch' image. Quickly she cast a feather-light charm on the bags before nodding sharply at Snape. The taciturn man muttered his apologies to Slughorn before he moved out of the classroom passing through rows of students, those of whom had red and gold ties had smirking expressions on their faces.

Hermione hesitated before following, knowing that something unpleasant was waiting for her passed those doors. She had no idea what had driven Snape to such extreme measures and was cautious to find out. Sighing, she picked up the bags that were now more inconvenient due to their size than weight. Moving slowly, she passed the students who mostly had impassive expressions on their faces. She did, however, notice the calculating expression on the face of one boy. Sirius Black was decidedly suspicious, and she would have to remember that the boy was cleverer than he ever wanted anyone to know.

…..

There were few times in Severus Snape's life that he felt like an idiot. Joining the Dark Lord, calling his only childhood friend a mudblood, these made the list of idiocies that he could count on his fingers. A few striking mistakes had shaped his entire life, but he was always cautious, always a step ahead of the world. He'd even known that day in the Shrieking Shack what the Dark Lord had planned for him, he had just accepted it. Hearing the footsteps of his charge as they followed him down the halls however, he couldn't help but feel like he was playing the role of the fool lately.

Stopping abruptly, he opened a door to the left that he knew led to an unused storeroom that had, at one point, been used to house particularly hazardous potion's ingredients. Gesturing sharply with his unharmed hand for her to enter, he watched as the young girl filed into the room, a hint of trepidation in her step. He sighed, no matter how proficient the girl became at Occlumency the honesty of her mannerisms would always betray her. Slowly, she moved towards a dusty desk and pulled herself up to perch on the edge. She turned, finally looking him in the eyes, with an expectant expression coating her delicate features. Turning from her, perhaps overwhelmed by her youth, he spoke.

"Just how familiar are you with the Cruciatus Curse?" He asked as he began to erect privacy wards, more to occupy his hands then to protect against eavesdroppers. They both knew no one wandered this deep into the dungeons between classes, not even the Slytherins.

"Professor?" The girl asked, Snape was immensely glad he wasn't facing her. There was no way, if this had been a regular situation, she would have even considered approaching him to discuss her traumas, but this wasn't a regular situation. In fact, Snape would go as far as to say the past few weeks had been highly irregular.

"The Curse Miss Granger?" He probed once more, using her given name to unsettle her. Disconcertion was the only way he knew how to promote divulgence, never having much use for any other tactic the past few years.

"I imagine I am as familiar as most people who come from where we do," she stated. He could tell she was selecting her words very carefully from her slow tone. He closed his eyes, quickly running out of excuses for facing away from her.

"The shake in your hands, would indicate that you have more than the customary experience with the curse," he explained as he turned slowly. It was strange seeing the usually confident fiery girl staring off to the left to avoid his gaze. Her thin fingers gripped the table so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

"How long were you under?" He asked quietly, trying his best to mask how uncomfortable the conversation was making him.

"Does it matter?" She asked, finally locking eyes with him. For a moment anger flooded her blank eyes before she managed to disguise it, and most unusually Snape briefly regretted having taught her the art of fully Occluding her mind. Had he handed her another key to supress her demons?

"Yes," he answered simply.

"I wasn't keeping track," she spat, pushing off the table until both her feet were firmly planted on the ground. Obviously, the direction of the discussion was more than a little unpleasant for her.

"Seconds? Minutes?" He pushed, taking a step towards her with both of his hands open in an appeasing manor, like she was a wild animal that needed to be contained in case she had the sudden urge to flee. That was exactly what he would have done, he had never discussed his experience with the curse with anyone.

"I don't know," she repeated furiously. The tremors in her hands, that had released the edge of the table, made even more apparent with her rage. He forced himself not to look away from the broken girl as guilt flooded his system. He couldn't escape the feeling that he had caused this. How often he had sat in Albus's office with the older man thinking he was saving these kids from what he had faced at their ages. How often the order had plotted ways to end the reign of the Dark Lord. Standing there, opposite a girl he had taught from the age of eleven, he had never felt more like a General that had sent kids to fight his battles. How terribly had he and Albus failed? While most of the Order had been locked away safe and sound the seventeen-year-old in front of her had writhed on the floor under some psychopath's wand. He shook his head to rid himself of the disturbing image.

"The tremors are a result of nerve damage due to prolonged exposure to the curse. How long you were under it might indicate how substantial the damage to your nervous system is," he explained, taking another step in her direction. He watched as she opened and closed her mouth to reply a few times before she finally formulated a response.

"Please don't make me," Hermione muttered as she placed her head in her hands and began massaging her forehead in hard circles. Severus was familiar with the technique, he'd used it himself when the urge to physically try to stop memories from replaying on loop in his head struck.

"Don't make you what?" Severus asked redundantly, already knowing the answer.

"Don't make me think on it," she muttered as she screwed her eyes shut. It was probably the most grammatically incorrect sentence that the young girl had ever spoken, but Severus knew exactly what she was begging for. She wanted him to change the subject, just as he'd done when he'd noticed that scar on her arm, just as he'd done when he'd noticed that the wand she carried wasn't her own, but he couldn't, not this time.

"Miss Granger, I had to leave that class so urgently because wizardry folk don't get tremors," he explained slowly, not liking at all how her eyes were still screwed shut. "Perhaps other teachers might dismiss the symptom but Slughorn would see it and know what you'd been through in an instant," he continued, keeping his tone even. Reluctantly he took another step towards her until he was standing right in frond of her. "Lady Prince can't have 'Mudblood' carved into her arm, she can't have been under the Cruciatus Curse," he stated, despising how much it gnawed on his soul to bring their cover story into an obviously traumatic moment. When she didn't reply he reached over and grabbed her hands, that were still furiously rubbing her forehead, tightly with his own and forced them to still. She paused and opened her eyes to stare up at him.

"I am not Luna Prince," she stated with no anger in her voice, just a tired detachment that spoke of her weariness.

"I know," he replied. She paused for a moment as she studied his face. Severus wondered what she could possibly be searching for, he'd long since learned to rid his face of any visible emotion. She must have found it however, for a moment later she sighed and some of the tension in her body left. Snape didn't let go of his hands, fearing perhaps that he was what was holding her up, distracting her more from the repetitive thoughts than the abuse of her forehead or tightly shut eyes ever could.

"It was more than a half hour and less than an hour. On and off. They were questioning me," she responded, a shudder running through her body as she spoke. Severus maintained his facade of calm, but in his mind, worry clawed at his fraying faculties. That amount of time under the curse would drive anyone mad, and he knew for sure that if it weren't for the fact that they had thought the girl knew something interesting she wouldn't be standing in front of him. As it was, damage to the nervous system was a light penalty if that was all the curse had affected.

"There are complex spells that we can learn that can mask these symptoms," he began. He himself had never had any use for them, never having been exposed to the curse for that long, but he knew of people who had. The Dark Lord was not a man to upset lightly, after all. "But, the damage inflicted is incurable. There has been very little study conducted on the nervous system in the magical community due to the minimal health issues associated with it," he concluded, using facts to hide how unnerved he was at telling the girl that the war she had fought so intrepidly had scarred her for life. To his surprise she only nodded in reply.

"Do you know the spells now?" She asked. Snape smiled slightly, she always wanted to learn. He shook his head, not surprised when her face fell once more, he was surprised however, that he cared.

"They're simple to learn," he comforted quietly. Belatedly he realised that he still had a grip on her hands, abruptly he loosened his hold and took a step back. With a shake of his head he noticed that the blood from the cut on his hand, that he had completely forgotten about, was covering her right hand. For a moment he thought that she might recoil in horror at the sight, but then he forced himself to remember that this was Hermione Granger, and she'd seen her share of spilled blood in her time. Indeed, when she did notice she barely reacted, not even bothering to vanish it. Instead she lifted her eyes to meet his.

"Let's get you to the Hospital Wing, no doubt Slughorn would be put out if you never made it there," she muttered as she reached down for her bag, throwing his to him in the process, which he accepted and tossed behind his uninjured arm.

"What with me being his favourite student?" Snape commented with a raised eyebrow. To his surprise the girl let out a bark of a laugh at his words. She turned to face him, her occlumency shields down momentarily, making the sparkle in her brown eyes even more apparent and shook her head.

"I guess it's no wonder you favoured Draco," she muttered under her breath, Severus was astonished at the teasing tone of her voice.

"Draco earned his grades," he defended with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure _Professor_ ," she replied with a laugh, the inflection she'd placed on his title unnerved him slightly. The borders between teacher and student were fraying between them, and when they finally disappeared he knew her strong personality would no longer conform to his wishes. _How long would she stay at Hogwarts if she thought she knew better?_ He thought worriedly. He needed her within these walls, for reasons he didn't think he would ever disclose to her.

"Let's get out of here," he commanded, ruining the brief moment of comradery between the pair.

….

A wave of relief washed over Sirius when the bell rang signalling the end of class. Potions had never been his strong suit, no surprises there. The subject needed more subtlety than he had ever possessed. Even as a child he'd been blunter than the heir to an Ancient and Most Nobel house could even get away with. He'd seen through the hazy reality of supremacy and perceived it for what it really was, bigotry and fear. His keen observation had condemned his family forever in his heart. He should have been able to do the same for Lady Prince, the girl who wouldn't even meet the eye of muggleborn Lily Evans. _It would have been easier if she hadn't played with that muggle girl_ , Sirius thought in annoyance. Maybe if she hadn't leapt in front of the child when they'd questioned her she would have been effortlessly tidied away into the category of 'evil'. Then he wouldn't feel the need to watch her in every class and study all her interactions.

"That was strange, right?" Lily asked from beside him. He looked around, realising that most of the students had already gathered their things and were headed out of the classroom. He spotted Remus who was leaning on the wall beside the door with an expectant look directed at him. Sirius waved his hand, as if to say 'I'll catch up' before turning to gather his equipment. "It just seemed a little fishy," Lily repeated when he didn't immediately reply. Sirius sighed, sensing this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"And why is it me you've chosen to discuss this with?" He questioned with a roll of his eyes. He didn't have to look around the class to know that James had already left, the red-head was crafty, he'd give her that. He watched as her cheeks lightly coloured, her eyes almost unfairly easy to read. _She probably didn't even know what Occlumency was_ , he thought exasperatingly. He didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse to be so innocent when war was so clearly brewing.

"I was just making conversation," she defended, hugging her potions textbook tightly to her chest. Sirius forced the angry expression to drain from his face. If he was being honest the whole situation did seem rather odd, he'd watched how Snape had reached forward and grabbed the girl's arm, as if what she had been doing offended him. He'd dropped his gaze before Snape had summoned Slughorn, but there was no doubt in his mind that cut hadn't been made accidently.

"Let's just go to lunch," he murmured, desperate for a subject change. The topic of Luna Prince was getting old, especially when she provoked so much thought about his own family. Lily looked like she was about to protest but after a moment nodded in acceptance. Sirius knew she was trying to play her curiosity off as casual gossip. The rest of their friends might not see it, but he knew how much distain the red head had for the new girl, and it didn't take an expert to know why. They were the last to leave the classroom, besides the Professor who was busy preparing for the next class. Just when he thought he'd escaped the conversation, he felt Lily pull on his sleeve as they turned to leave the dungeons.

"Sirius," she called. He sighed in frustration, freedom had been so near. He turned to see her pointing down a dark corridor that went deeper into the dungeons, not in the direction of the Slytherin common rooms but to the parts of the castle that hadn't been used in years. The torches weren't even lit, another discouragement from exploring the area. "Is there a way to the hospital wing down there?" She asked, her green eyes shining in bemusement.

"No," he answered shortly, but then felt the need to expand, he didn't want to be the one responsible for her getting injured. "You shouldn't go down there by yourself, no one really wanders around down here," he continued. He watched as her pointed finger dropped from mid-air to the ground where a spattered fresh blood trail lay. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, nothing was ever easy.

"Well?" She asked turning to him with vindication clear in her expression.

"I'm going to lunch," he replied with a shake of her head.

"Sirius wait," she called, giving him pause on the first step. "What if she's hurt?" She demanded, obviously formulating excuses. They both knew which 'her' she was referring to. Sirius didn't even know why she was maintaining this pretence with no one around, they both knew it wasn't Luna Prince she was interested in. _Maybe she's lying to herself_ , Sirius thought.

"Evans, believe me, the girl can defend herself," he declared sharply, memories of being stunned by the proficient dueller on the train flew threw his mind. He tried to stamp them out, irritation and embarrassment gnawing at his confidence in defence, a subject that he had considered his strongest since his first class.

"As her roommate I feel obliged to check on her," Lily muttered, taking a step away from him. He almost growled at her audacity, she knew he couldn't let her walk down the dark corridor of the dungeons by herself.

"Evans please, this is ridiculous. Think about the last time we interfered," Sirius pleaded, wishing he'd hurried out of the classroom the second the lesson had come to an end. At least then someone else would have been stuck obliging the red-heads every whim. He reached out to grab a hold of her before she raced off into trouble, but she dodged him.

"It'll only take a second," she argued as she turned and headed down the corridor with a haphazardly cast lumos. He watched her go, briefly considering turning and leaving her to her own affairs before he started to follow. They both knew James would never forgive him if his lady love got injured when he could have stopped it. He sighed, the girl may have been innocent, but she was a pro at emotional blackmail.

They followed the winding corridor silently for a few minutes. Sirius too headstrong to ever admit that he was following her out of any since of duty and Lily too tricky to confess that she'd manipulated the particularly Gryffindor trait. He was about to suggest that the brief blood trail had been a red herring when Lily, for the second time that day, pulled at his sleeve. He rolled his eyes and pulled out of her grip, a snappy retort at the tip of his tongue before he paused, having heard the same muffled sound of foot steps heading in their directions. Begrudgingly he lugged the reluctant girl into a convenient broom cupboard to their right and they cancelled their lumos spells quickly. As quietly as he could manage he pushed the heavy door, which was partway of its hinges until only a crack remained opened. He need not have worried about making sound however, the pair that came around the corridor seemed too immersed in their own conversation to ever acknowledge their presence.

"Just because you didn't get top grades doesn't mean others didn't earn them," Snape spat. A new level of hostility that even Sirius hadn't been the brunt of, decorating his voice. To his surprise he watched through the crack in the door as Lady Prince laughed at his words.

"So, you never took a particular hatred to any student?" She accused, still amused.

"If you're alluding to what I think you are, you'll find he deserved ever bit of the scorn I so willingly provided," Snape retorted harshly. To Sirius's surprise Luna stopped directly outside of the closet where they were hidden. For a moment Sirius thought they were caught and he fingered his wand in his trousers pocket, preparing for a duel, but then he noticed the affronted look covering her face. She'd stopped walking in shock, not in suspicion. Sirius held his breath, hoping she'd pick up her pace once more and move away from them; no such luck.

"After all this time?" She questioned quietly. "After all you did for him? All he did for us? You'd still hold it against him?" Disbelief coated the young woman's voice. For the first time since he'd laid eyes on Luna Prince he finally thought he was seeing the unedited version of her. Even in the park she'd been masked in a defensive façade. Right then though, with her face dimly lit by wand light, she looked every bit as lethal as she did insouciant, and just like that Sirius knew that this girl had never and would never be a Lady of any house.

"Hold what exactly? His unyielding arrogance?" Snape cursed, having paused to address the girl.

"His father? That's what this is all about, right? How much you hated him? For God's sake Snape his very fate was marked by your bitterness," she accused. Sirius watched as Snape's expression completely changed, his usually emotionless eyes flooded with anger and his mouth lifted into an ugly sneer. Sirius hadn't missed the muggle way she'd called for a singular 'God' in her irritation.

"Listen _girl_ , just because you were getting off with the leader of the light doesn't make him any less of an arrogant moron then he was. Many people failed the pair of you over the last few years, but I was always there to pick up the pieces, if you want someone to blame shove it off on someone else," he hollered. "I made many mistakes in my life but had I known-," he paused, seeming too furious to continue. "I didn't know it was _her_ when I told the Dark Lord, I didn't even know she was pregnant," he hissed. "I thought they were the words of some crazy old crone wanting to impress Dumbledore," he pushed forward. Sirius had never heard him talk with such emotion, anger and passion weren't things that he generally associated with the boy who'd barely flinched when he'd called his best friend a mudblood. He felt Lily tense beside him at the mention of the Dark Lord, to her such a near association with the madman was outrageous.

"How dare you suggest there was anything going on between Harry and me. I would have followed him to the ends of the earth because we were partners which is more than I can say about us!" She hissed. "You say you never _failed_ me Snape but that's what you're doing right now," she cursed angrily. He opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off. "I know you know more than you're letting on," she continued defiantly. "Forcing me to stay here because of the duty I swore towards a man that is long dead, a man whose respect and trust were earned throughout the years," she accused hotly.

"A man who murdered his sister," Snape cut in with enough sarcasm to indicate that she'd left out an important detail.

"What am I doing here Snape?" She asked, ignoring his comment. "I've spent most of my life in the dark, waiting for what ever the adults thought they were _protecting_ me from to grab me from behind," she muttered. Sirius was uncomfortable to note that tears were brimming in her eyes. "Just tell me, what is so bad that I can't know?" She asked, her voice deflating of its anger, revealing its weariness. She paused for a few tense seconds, giving him time to respond. Sirius watched the reluctant expression flitter across Snape's face.

"You're just as bad as they were," she hissed, when enough time had passed to assume he wasn't going to reply. "Don't ever speak ill of Harry again," she concluded before she turned on her heel and fled the dark corridor leaving the furious Slytherin on his own. Sirius watched as Snape turned and punched the stone wall to his side with a growl before reluctantly following her. Sirius closed his eyes and waited a few moments, knowing exactly what was going to occur, he could even pinpoint when it was going to happen. _5,4,3,2,1…_

"Leader of the light? Dark Lord? Old Crone? Murdered?" Lily whispered furiously, exactly on time. They lit their wands in unison before leaving the confines of the closet. "I told you something was going on," she said, waving her hands around her as if to demonstrate her point.

"I knew something was going on! I just didn't want to be involved," Sirius replied furiously. What he had heard had certainly been thought provoking but what was he able to conclude? They'd spoken entirely in riddles that the only thing he was certain of was that she wasn't a Lady and had a lot of dangerous secrets. _What was Snape playing at?_ Sirius thought furiously. Getting someone, who he strongly doubted was even a half blood, to play his long-lost cousin seemed like the plan of a mentally deficient four-year-old to the astute Gryffindor _. Didn't he realise he was going to get the girl killed? Did he even care?_ Questions flew through his mind at an impossible speed.

He looked at Lily and tried to assess just how much the girl disliked Luna. She obviously hadn't realised the girl's heritage rumours couldn't be true, not being able to spot what a Pureblood Lady should be acting like. Still she had enough ammunition to possibly get Luna killed if she went blabbing on about the girl's possible light connections. Lily just didn't understand how catastrophic her actions could be in this situation, she didn't understand the dark recesses of the world she was thrown into at the tender age of eleven.

"Come on, Dumbledore's probably back in his office now?" Lily said with a wave of her hand towards the direction they had come from. Sirius rolled his eyes, the girl was so predictable, she loved to play the role of the saviour. Proving she was better than Snape was a full-time occupation for her, that she moonlighted regularly with trying to get the Slytherin's attention.

"And tell him what Lily? That the new girl dated a guy named Harry and Snape might've at one point had a conversation with the Dark Lord?" He hissed in exasperation. He watched as disbelief flared in Lily's eyes.

"You can't be serious? They were talking about murder, we can't just forget that," she demanded as she stalked off in the direction of the dungeon's exit.

"They were speaking in riddles," Sirius muttered. "Dumbledore will laugh you out of it," he continued. When the girl didn't stop her swift pace, he played his last card. "James will think you're crazy, obsessing over the slimy twit," he murmured casually, she paused slightly in her hurry to stare back at him.

"I am not obsessed," she retorted hotly.

"Right," Sirius replied sarcastically. "Stalking him and his cousin is just normal behaviour?" He questioned, internally praying she'd begin to see the lunacy of the entire situation. He watched as the determination drained from her eyes slowly.

"Is it not our responsibility to speak up?" She tried one last time, but Sirius could already see the battle was long over.

"Speak up about what? We didn't hear anything concrete," he reassured firmly, which was what she had actually been looking for. Shaking her head, she continued down the corridor, but he wasn't nervous she'd be telling anyone about what she'd overheard. After all, it was her reputation on the line now and he didn't think the muggleborn would be so quick to sacrifice herself, few were. He paused for a moment as he watched her go. _Crisis Averted_ , he thought in relief. He knew his little save of the Prince girl's poorly constructed cover story was a thankless action, but he couldn't help but see it done. Any girl who was willing to lie in the snake pit and pretend she was hissing to their tune was well worth the protection in his opinion.

….

Hermione hurried towards her evening class, she'd spent the last few hours hiding in the Gryffindor common room to avoid Severus Snape who she was sure was out for her blood for the comments she'd made. Either that, or the stoic man would completely ignore that the fight had even happened. She wasn't built like that, she'd never be able to supress the way they'd spoken to one another. She shuddered, not quite regretting what she had said. She had been feeling neglected by the man for some time. She'd thought back at Spinner's End, when he'd revealed that he knew more than he was letting on, that when she grew more stable he'd fill her in on the gaps. It was frustrating to know he had no intention of ever treating her as an equal, or even a fully functioning human being. How could he treat her like this?

Even the thought of sitting through another class of Longbottom's didn't raise as much dread in her heart. Not when all her energy was already consumed with obsessing about just how cruelly her only link to her own time would be treating her. That wasn't to say, however, that she wasn't immensely glad that this was the last class she'd have to sit through with the uncouth Auror that week. She flew around the corner into the corridor that contained the defence classroom. The bell would ring any second and if there was any class she didn't want to be late for it was Defence. She froze when she lifted her gaze from the floor to meet a familiar man's eyes, or more accurately his eye (singular). Immediately she raised her occlumency shields.

It was strange to see the man so young, still even having both of his legs and a much less scarred face. Mad-Eye Moody stood beside Frank Longbottom dressed in his blue Auror robes, looking every bit the intimidating man she knew him to be. She belatedly noticed that the classroom door was shut behind him, which was even more suspicious to her, who knew everything the man did was deliberate. They had both looked up the second she had rounded the corner, obviously having been expecting her.

"Miss Potter?" Moody questioned in his usual gruff voice. Hermione's blood ran cold at the name.

"Prince," she corrected hesitantly. She placed her hands on her hips to hide their obvious shaking, readjusting the defence textbook she carried under her arm. She watched as Moody withdrew a file from his robe pocket before pulling a picture from between the thick parchment sheets.

"That's not what it says here girl," he stated brusquely as he thrust the picture out in front of him. Hermione had to use every ounce of her sinew not to flinch at the image. The poorly pixilated muggle photo showed her lying on the muggle hospital bed from her very first day in the past. Thankfully her arm was covered in a thick bandage, but she doubted that the hefty file Moody held in his hand didn't contain more spoilers of her first encounter with the muggle police force. She watched as Moody turned the picture over, on the back, written in clear uppercase lettering was the name Luna Potter.

"I..," she began but paused when she had absolutely no idea what she should say. "What is this about?" She questioned, finally preferring to get on the defensive.

"I'm so glad you asked," Moody stated, a sneer forming on his coarse face. Hermione couldn't help but notice the perturbed expression that was occupying Frank's face. She tried to control her breathing but if even her Professor, who despised her, was worried, she couldn't help but wonder how catastrophic the situation was. "I'm investigating the murder of former Detective Barrows of the muggle police force," he continued, a victorious gleam shining in his eyes. Hermione dropped her defence textbook.

 **Hey guys, sorry I left this on a bit of a cliffy it was just getting impossibly long. Please please please review :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey there you guys! I just wanted to say a big big thank you to all the reviewers, I was blown away by your kindness. I hope you enjoy this instalment!**

 **Special thanks to slythrclw-shdwhntr-46, Zadria Cerulean, Shola2001, uhohspaghettiooos, thewinnowingwind, Ecwb, ante-diem, whiteroses1743, Garnet, Artemis Decibal, ninaaaaa, whitesepulchre, Blue night fairy, butterfly363, HGranger89, smithback, Bananniejones, JuliaLestrange, Krounas, brookie88, TheLoud, johnsocz,** **Nova5621 and guests.**

 _I think of those prizes_

 _That were ours for the taking_

 _And wonder when the choices got made_

 _We don't remember making_

 _-Liz Lochead_

 **Chapter 12**

 _Previously…_

 _"_ _I'm so glad you asked," Moody stated, a sneer forming on his coarse face. Hermione couldn't help but notice the perturbed expression that was occupying Frank's face. She tried to control her breathing but if even her Professor, who despised her, was worried, she couldn't help but wonder how catastrophic the situation was. "I'm investigating the murder of former Detective Barrows of the muggle police force," he continued, a victorious gleam shining in his eyes. Hermione dropped her defence textbook._

 _A few minutes earlier…._

Frank Longbottom was bored. There was no other way to describe it, the days at Hogwarts stretched to an impossible length. He pondered his irritation as he read through the material for the sixth-year class that was due to begin in a few minutes. He always read over the chapter before he began each of his classes, but he still didn't know if it was diligence or insecurity that fuelled the prep work. His eyes drifted lazily towards the right side of the classroom until they finally settled at one particular seat. The seat that would soon be occupied by an enigma he didn't think he'd ever understand.

Frank heaved a heavy sigh before he placed his head into his hands. This wasn't how his early twenties were supposed to be spent. He was supposed to be an Auror, someone who spent their days consumed by puzzles and action. He had never planned to be a Professor, but Dumbledore was not a man that was easy to turn down. There was always an ulterior motive to his every exploit, and Frank didn't know if this world could afford his refusal. That was the famous fatal flaw about Dumbledore's plans, you never knew how expendable you were until you were crowned a hero or a martyr. As he stared at the empty seat he wondered, not for the first time, if his appointment had had something to do with the Lady Prince's mysterious arrival.

Frank's head drooped closer to the table, and he contemplated the disadvantages of a midday nap. Suddenly, the door to his classroom swung open dramatically with a loud bang. Frank shot to his feet with his wand drawn and a reprimand ready on his lips. He froze when he realised who had barged in on his peaceful few moments.

"Auror Moody?" he asked in complete disbelief, his mind running through a hundred reasons why his boss would be stood in front of him. Moody completely dismissed any such pleasantries, instead swung the door shut, just as violently as he had opened it, and stomped over to stand in front of Frank's desk. His expression as grim and determined as ever.

"Put that down boy, before you take out my only remaining eye," Moody commented snidely, his magical eye darting down towards Frank's wand. The old renowned Auror sat heavily in one of the school chairs in the front row. Any doubt he had that it was in fact _the_ Alastor Moody disappeared with the sarcastic comment. With an irritated sigh Frank rolled his eyes and fell into his seat once more. This time though, his posture was rigid.

"Why are you here?" He growled, not willing to suppress any of his irritation. He still partially blamed the older Auror for allowing Dumbledore's request to be put through.

"I'm here to make your day boy," Moody replied, ignoring Frank's dark tone. Reaching into his robes he withdrew a thick file that had the Department's emblem decorating its front. Haphazardly he threw it across the desk, it slid casually in front of Frank. He didn't drop eye contact for a moment, considering siding the report back just to annoy his mysterious trainer. His curiosity got the better of him however and he opened the file up to the first page. His eyes narrowed in confusion when he noticed the muggle paper with messy writing scrawled all over it. He leaned closer to try and decode the words. A few sentences stood out amongst the chaos that seemed to resemble a constant Joycean stream of thought.

 _Rodger's is gone._

 _Days are missing, memories come and go._

 _Mustn't forget- children, parents, all gone._

 _I woke up today with hours gone._

 _A note on my desk had an address in Spinner's End but I don't know anyone in that shithole._

 _Who is Luna Potter?_

He flipped the page in confusion and froze in horror at the muggle picture that greeted his unprepared eyes. Lying a few feet away from a bed was, what Frank could only assume, the remains of a man. His face had been completely ruined by what he would guess was a particularly rough blasting curse.

"Merciful Merlin Moody, a little warming would have been nice," he hissed as he attempted to shut the file closed. Alastor moved quickly and shoved his hands between the pages before it was fully sealed.

"What's the matter boy, the big Auror can't hold his lunch?" Moody questioned with his usual laugh that didn't reach his eyes. Frank just rolled his eyes in response, well used to the man's macho goading. Instead of re-joining again Moody simply flipped open the report and gestured down towards the page. Frank sent him a glare but nevertheless looked down. His breath caught, lying there in the muggle photo was a grainy Luna Prince. Her face was pale, and her lip was cut open but there was no mistaking the girl. She looked so dreadfully young that Frank had to look away once more.

"The girl must have gotten caught up with the muggle police department somehow," Moody explained, not seeming at all surprised when Frank didn't raise his head to respond. "Don't worry, whoever's left connected to that bastard family got their revenge," he intoned darkly. "You think the pictures are bad, I paid a visit to their morgue," he added before rising from his seat and beginning to pace the room. "I've no idea what she was doing around muggles or what the detective was doing focusing on her, all of the other files were destroyed, these were just thrown around his house. But it's something," he muttered, limping slightly as he crossed the room.

Frank allowed himself to truly take in the image of the girl lying awkwardly in what seemed like a muggle hospital. There was no way the file in front of him was unconnected to the recent revelations he'd been making in the muggle world.

 _Mustn't forget- children, parents, all gone._ He repeated to himself. Finally, he raised his eyes to study the Auror in front of him, a man that had a deep faith in the department he played a hand in managing. Sure, he knew there was corruption, but Frank sincerely doubted he knew the extent of it. There was no way Alastor Moody would have joined a lawless group like the Order of the Phoenix. He had once heard him comment that they were just as bad as the Death Eaters, a bunch of anarchic wand-wavers. He wondered redundantly if he would have such strong opinions if he knew what the higher ups in the department he was always so proud of were really hiding.

"He was probably a nutter," Frank commented, trying to keep his voice light. There was no way he could let Moody know about his suspicions. The older man was a loose canon of the highest regard. Moody's eyes narrowed at his words and he stopped his pacing for a moment.

"What's the matter boy? Only two days ago you were begging me to find something on the Prince girl and now that I have it you're acting like a prissy witch," Moody commented as he leaned his weight against one of the desks in the front row. Frank retained eye contact, knowing that any such avoidance would only promote his suspicions.

"Just seems pretty thin to me is all," Frank commented before shutting the file with an edge of finality. Moody's magical eye spun forward and seemed to bore through his very soul.

"A man is dead with holes in his memories and the only active case he had going involved the Prince girl," Moody stated, his voice coated in disbelief. "Thin?" He questioned sarcastically. A brief rush of self-loathing filled Frank's heart. He felt dirty deterring Moody from investigating the case, but he knew that were the older man to just scratch the surface a little further he'd uncover everything. Then the only link that Frank had to determine what was truly happening in his department would disappear before he even knew what he'd stumbled upon. Sometimes the ends really did justify the means. He had a child killer to stop, and if he had to choose the Order over the Department to do that, he would in a heartbeat. So, he scoffed and rolled his eyes at the man who had practically taught him everything he knew.

"You won't get a conviction from this Alastor," he muttered, injecting a hint of derision into his use of Moody's first name. Frank had to remember that they were equals now, he wasn't a trainee that could be dismissed at any sign of wrongdoing. He stood and headed towards the class room door, intent on dismissing Moody before his class arrived.

"I've never known you to shy from a challenge," Moody commented. Frank paused and screwed his eyes shut, glad he was facing away from the Auror.

"More conserving my energy, no more wild goose chases," he countered, referring to all the cold case assignments Moody had sent him on to get him used to the field.

"If I recall you were quite good at wild goose chases," Moody replied, throwing him slightly. He was usually never one to give compliments and Frank couldn't help but feel that the austere man was throwing him a line. Obviously, he knew that he was hiding something and was giving him an out. Ignoring his urge to spill his guts right then and there, Frank continued and opened the door, immensely glad that none of his students had arrived.

"Auror Moody," Frank muttered with a haphazard gesture towards the exit. He hoped the bold gesture would unsettle him just enough to leave but he should have known better. Nothing ever unsettled Moody.

"Well amn't I glad I decide what cases are worth _my_ investigation," he growled with narrowed eyes. "Act like a good little _Professor_ and bring me the girl, there's at least one Auror in Hogwarts today," he hissed.

….

Hermione sat across from the two Aurors in the small unfamiliar room they had led her to. She had still not uttered a word since Moody's abrupt declaration and her heart had yet to cease hammering in her chest. The adrenaline pumping through her body made it hard to stay seated, the last few months any other time she'd felt the _flight or fight_ impulses she'd been running before she'd even taken in her surroundings. That's what war really was, running until you had the upper hand. It was strange for her to stay around for the political aspects, the Aurors in her own time had been taken under the Dark Lords control too fast for her to ever have any experience with them.

"Does Dumbledore know we're here?" She hazily heard Frank ask the older man. Her head was too swarmed with thoughts of the butterfly effect to have even considered the legality of the Auror questioning her at school. She held her breath, hoping that Moody would have to leave to ask for special permissions.

"What the old man doesn't know won't hurt him," Moody replied with a wry smile that dashed Hermione's hopes. She couldn't help but note how incredibly naïve he was behaving, Dumbledore knew everything that was happening on his grounds. This interview wouldn't be taking place unless he willed it. From the thick file in his hands Moody withdrew a photo that she presumed was the same as he'd shown her earlier. He placed it on the table in front of her, but she didn't drop her eyes, afraid that even through her Occlumency shields her recognition would show on her face.

"Afraid to look girl?" Moody pushed, using his large weather-beaten hand to shake the photo on the table in front of her. She still didn't look down.

"If you really had something I wouldn't still be at Hogwarts," she muttered, staring straight ahead and trying her best to avoid their eyes. She was surprised when her voice didn't shake and betray her nerves. In response Moody just lifted the photo from the table and held it a mere few inches from her face. She had been wrong. It wasn't a picture of her but of what she guessed were the remains of Detective Barrows. She forced herself not to flinch away from the disturbing image of the man that had died trying to uncover horrors that he would never have been able to comprehend.

"I have enough," Moody intoned darkly. "Look Longbottom, she's a tougher stomach than you," he commented in response to her emotionless perusal of the picture. "Seen worse girl?" He questioned with a laugh she knew was designed to unsettle her. She ignored the question, hoping against hope that Severus would notice her absence and come to her rescue. A part of her hated that she needed a saviour at all. She watched as his magical eye rotated rapidly around his head, a tactic that he had once personally told her he'd used to disgust criminals. She'd never considered that she'd be sat at the opposite side of the table to him.

 _'_ _The eye',_ Hermione thought suddenly, panic clawed at her fraying nerves. She knew the Auror never used his eye to look under the robes of witches, but should he decide to check her for the Dark Mark and discover Bellatrix's carving instead she'd be made. Reaching under the table she placed her hand in her pocket as casually as she could.

"So, was it revenge or just old fashion muggle hunting?" Moody questioned grimly. Hermione waited until his magical eye locked with hers before she made her move for her wand.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," Hermione muttered. In a flash she withdrew her wand and cast a charm Kingsley had taught her when Moody's magical eye had been lost that fateful night in Little Whinging. She had barely finalised the spell before her wand was expelled from her hand forcefully by the experienced Auror. She didn't mind, she had never intended to fight. Her arm was impenetrable by his special sight now and that was all that mattered. She sincerely doubted he was even familiar with the spell given that the eye must have been a new addition to his collection of injuries.

"What are you playing at girl?" He hissed, her wand landing in his outstretched hand. He took a moment to assess the spot that she'd charmed with his magical eye inquiringly. Hermione could have pinpointed the instant he noticed the gap in his vision. His expression darkened noticeably, and he roughly flicked through the file in his hand before he withdrew the picture of her. His eyes flew to the bandage on her arm in the picture that at one point might have seemed inconsequential but now held a deeper meaning.

"Moody?" Frank voiced, having missed a step in their rapid exchange.

"Don't worry, by the time I'm done with you you'll be begging for me to look at that arm," Moody hissed, completely ignoring Frank's question. Trying her best to channel a Pureblood heiress she leaned forward in her seat and plastered a smirk on her face.

"Oh please, I know my rights. You have to have just cause for a bodily search and good luck finding an inquisitor willing to upset the Lady of the Prince household for the sake of a muggle man," she murmured, with a wicked laugh. She watched the colour drain from Frank's face at the change in her disposition. Moody stood so fast his chair hit the ground with a loud thump.

"Listen here-," he started but was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door behind her. She watched as annoyance flickered across his scarred face before turning to see for herself who had come to her rescue.

….

Severus Snape had a headache. He couldn't have been sure if it was exhaustion or anger that was causing the harsh nerve pain, but if he was a betting man his money would be on a certain brunette being involved. The fight they'd unwisely shared deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts had jarred something in his heart that he'd once thought fixed. Was he really taking on the traits of Albus Dumbledore that he'd once hated himself? With the gift of foresight her words held some depth. Keeping information from the fiery girl had always seemed imperative, a fixture that secured her presence at his side. If she were to figure out everything then he knew she'd have no interest in staying around the dated castle. Hermione Granger had never been one to rest on her laurels.

His patience wore thin at her uncharacteristic lateness to her unnecessary Defence lesson. She was lucky Longbottom had left after he'd allowed them into classroom or the irate Auror would just have one more reason to target her. He dismissed the part of himself that summoned Granger's words to the surface of his mind. Had he really been as blatantly biased as Longbottom? He knew she was especially connected to the Potter boy, but what if she was right? What if he'd been one of those people that had failed the boy that had the fate of the world on his shoulders? Standing at the front of a classroom it was hard to see the depths of his student's troubles. Even as he'd taught him Occlumency the boy had always been obstinate and arrogant. He shook his head slowly, Granger wasn't the type of girl to be friends with anyone even remotely like that.

If it was true, was he failing her too? Was the providence of the quest he'd found himself on more important than her free will?

The door to the classroom opened loudly and he turned his head sharply, hoping that Granger had beaten the teacher to class. He watched in confusion as Rodolophus Lestrange entered the classroom. The seventh year looked around the room carefully with an assessing expression on his face before his eyes fell on Severus. A hush descended on the classroom as they began to realise that they had an intruder in their midst. Confidently the Slytherin made his way through the tables, seeming to enjoy the extra attention, until finally stopping in front of Snape. He had completely bypassed his brother in the process who looked baffled at his presence.

"Lestrange," he greeted warily. He didn't bother to point out that Longbottom could be back any second, Rodolophus would already know that. Slytherin's never took unnecessary risks.

"Snape," the boy returned with a smirk. "So, Longbottom's really gone then?" He asked after a moment's pause, as if this was a casual question that he hadn't just entered a different year groups class to ask. Severus had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the backhanded method his housemates used to gossip.

"Indeed, did you see him in the corridor?" Severus inquired, playing along with the pathetic game of cat and mouse. He tried to infuse anything other than casual disinterest into his facial expression but failed miserably.

"It's funny you should ask actually," Rodolophus began. "I was just chatting with Bellatrix and she mentioned that Narcissa may have seen the Professor leading Lady Prince away from the classroom," he informed with a gleam of warning in his eyes. Severus tried not to panic at the influx of information. While Longbottom could be tetchy there was no way he would lead Granger into some sort of trap, well at least not in the sight of witnesses.

"A student and a Professor, how riveting," he replied sardonically, maintaining his unflustered persona. Worry began to settle in his mind when the smirk on Rodolophus's face only grew at his dismissive comment.

"My sentiments exactly," he replied. "Or at least they were until I heard Auror Moody was accompanying them, then of course I was quite interested," he finished, finally unleashing the real reason he was in the classroom. A sudden wave of nausea swept over Severus at the news. He stood sharply, a plan already forming in his head.

"Did Narcissa hear anything else or see which direction they were headed in?" Severus questioned, frustration clear in his tone. Rodolophus simply shook his head, a calculating expression decorating his features. Severus nodded once before turning and heading towards the exit, ignoring the curious stares of his fellow classmates that were close enough to have overheard Rodolophus's words. He sighed, they really needed to work on keeping a low profile. He would have thought after years of experience as a spy he'd have no problem with the covert mission, things were always harder when they were personal. He took solace in the fact that he had never really planned on keeping his hasty personality changes hidden from certain prying eyes, quite the opposite. Granger however, was meant to be protected.

"Snape, wait," Rodolophus summoned just as Severus was about to leave the room. He turned, pausing for only a moment. "Take Rabastan with you, you'll cover more ground," he commanded authoritatively, motioning towards his brother. While his words may have seemed harsh the message in them was clear. Slytherins weren't known for their loyalty, but against the Ministry they always made an exception. To Rodolophus, Luna was a Lady being persecuted by his government, exactly the fire that fuelled so many to join the Dark Lord's resistance.

Snape just nodded to display his gratefulness before he sped out the door, thoroughly unsettled by their brief exchange. He heard scampering behind him proving that Rabastan was hot on his heels. They hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts at a brisk pace, but never accelerated into a run, neither wanting the attention of the population. Eventually they came to a familiar corridor.

"I doubt they'd be all the way up here," Rabastan commented, slightly out of breath. Snape ignored him before he began to knock furiously on a classroom door to their left. "Have you lost your mind?" Rabastan hissed when he realised exactly what Snape was about to do.

"Luna is a Gryffindor, we can use that to our advantage," Snape explained shortly, not sparing the boy a glance. He waited impatiently until he heard the shrill Scottish accent permitting him entry. Snape didn't hesitate, throwing open the door he took a hurried step into the classroom. Belatedly he realised that a class was in session, from his estimation it must have been a first year one. Their young and curious faces swivelled to assess the anomalous disturbance to their monotonous class.

"Mister Snape?" Minerva asked, her tone filled with astonishment. She was stood with her usual firm posture at the front of the classroom, obviously in the middle of demonstrating a spell. He hesitated for a moment, unsure how to address his old friend.

"Professor, may I have a moment of your time?" He questioned, as politely as the time constraint he faced would allow. His composure seemed to stun the notoriously strict woman who appeared to evaluate his request carefully before nodding once in response and making her way to the back of the class.

….

Hermione was shocked to recognise the youngest Lestrange brother standing in the doorway. He smirked when he caught sight of the three occupants of the room.

"Gotcha," he murmured. A weird unease developed in her mind at the familiar echo that the one word sent through her whole body. She shook her head to expel the sensation before turning fully in her chair to study the boy who leaned back and peered down the corridor.

"Professor," he projected, the smirk never falling from his handsome features. For a silly moment Hermione assumed it was Snape that he was summoning until she heard the familiar clatter of a heeled boot on the stone floors. Both McGonagall and Snape arrived from different directions to stand on either side of the doorway. Hermione vaguely noted that McGonagall could have been the physical representation of fury. Her wicked gaze sought out Moody with a vehemence that Hermione knew she reserved for people that especially disgusted her.

"How dare you Alastor," she fumed as she took an imperial step into the room to stand beside Hermione. "And you," she hissed as she rounded on Frank Longbottom. "Allowing one of your students to be harassed like this," she persevered stridently, gesturing around the room to illustrate her point. Frank didn't meet her eye, the shame he felt was apparent to everyone in the room.

"I'll have you know that I have permission from Dumbledore to visit the Auror _he_ borrowed from my department," Alastor defended, rising from his seat while simultaneously shutting the grotesque pictures away into the file in front of her. McGonagall didn't miss the gesture and her eyes just caught a glimpse of the image. Her jaw dropped open and she once again rounded on the older Auror.

"Permission to visit not to cajole and terrify," she hissed clearly, an accusatory finger pointed in his direction. "Did you think showing a sixteen-year-old these gruesome pictures would further anything?" She questioned bitingly. Her ire seemed to grow with every moment that Auror Moody showed no remorse for his actions.

"She's young not innocent-," he attempted fiercely.

"Let me ask you Auror Moody, do you interrogate all criminals you have enough evidence to conclude certain guilt, so far from the department?" She questioned sardonically. The firm expression in her eyes never receding. Moody didn't bother formulating an answer and just glared in return. "That's what I thought," she finished. She gestured for Hermione to rise from her seat which she obeyed hurriedly. "Head back to your dormitories Miss Prince," she commanded. Hermione nodded once before moving towards Severus. "That goes for you too boys," she added in the direction of the two Slytherins. Severus however, didn't make his way out of the class, in fact he took a step forward.

"Her wand?" He requested coldly with an outstretched hand in the direction of Auror Moody. The man just glared in return before addressing Hermione.

"You think a charm on that arm of yours will keep you safe from me _Lady Prince,_ " he began bitterly with a sarcastic lilt imposed on her faux title. "But you should know I have a history of putting away people regardless of who they share blood with," he informed with narrowed eyes.

"I'll keep that in mind," she muttered not meeting his eyes. Roughly Moody shifted the file around in his grasp before withdrawing a different picture and placing it on the table. It was an old polaroid of Detective Barrows. He wore his familiar tight-lipped smile and there was a clear mischievous gleam in his bright eyes that seemed to penetrate the black and white hindrance of the photo. It reminded her strongly of the first time she'd met the handsome Detective. Reluctantly unbidden memories of the strong man that had fought to oppose the child killers that invaded his world flooded her mind.

 _Let me try_ , his voice whispered in her mind, pleading for her to fight with him.

"Some investigations should be conducted inwardly Mad-Eye," she whispered before she could help herself, her eyes not yet leaving the picture. She remembered the terror that had haunted Barrows when he'd mentioned how his partner had just disappeared into thin air. Moody's presence was enough for Hermione to conclude that the hasty clean up of the muggle investigation hadn't been lawfully conducted. It was easy for her to see the obvious corruption in the department that had never supported her, but she imagined it would be difficult for the older Auror to see something he didn't want to exist.

"Speak up girl," Moody commanded, though she knew he'd heard her clearly. Reaching out she touched Barrows face in the photo and silently sent her apologies for his cruel misfortune. She opened her mouth to respond but a cold voice interrupted her.

"Luna," Snape warned. She snapped her mouth shut, her temporary daze shattered. Snape shook his outstretched hand impatiently once again. Moody roughly pushed the wand into his grasp.

"Don't think I don't know he paid you a little visit Snape," Moody cautioned in a half growl. Severus completely ignored the man, instead he grabbed hold of Hermione's elbow and guided her out of the room without even a backwards glance. Rabastan followed silently a few paces behind them. Snape's grip tightened on her arm every few steps they took until it became painful.

"Thanks for everything Rabastan," Snape commented, the dismissal clear in his strained voice. Rabastan, perhaps picking up on the tense atmosphere, nodded and paused in his stride.

"I'm glad to see you're unharmed M'Lady," he muttered in parting with a small smile on his face. Once again, an odd feeling penetrated Hermione's senses as she assessed the boy but quickly it faded into the background of her occupied mind. Before she could formulate her own few words of feigned appreciation for his intervention Severus had pulled her down the corridor and around the corner.

…

They meandered the halls towards the Gryffindor common room at a swift pace until Snape could no longer hold in his interrogation. With a flick of his wand he opened a portrait of the British countryside she hadn't even been aware housed a secret passageway. A few birds left the portrait in irritation at the jostling of their habitat, squawking angrily as they left. Pulling her in roughly he closed the door behind them with a solid thump. With harsh wand movements Snape raised discretionary charms around them so their conversation would be private. Finally, he turned to face her in the thin passageway that forced them to stand mere inches from one another.

"Tell me everything," he commanded directly, his dark eyes seemed to glow in the brief sliver of light the crack between the portrait and wall allowed. Otherwise the passage was soaked in darkness, giving the meeting a lightly clandestine feel.

"What did you mean that day?" She questioned boldly.

"Miss Granger," he hissed, not in the mood for her innate questions.

"That day in the park when you said you'd _deal_ with Detective Barrows?" She pushed, ignoring his castigation. His eyebrows rose at the question and the distressed expression decorating her face.

"I erased his memories of you," he replied simply, finally coming to terms with the fact that she'd begin to answer his questions sooner if he played her game.

"That's all?" She asked once more.

"Yes," he answered firmly, if there was anything that annoyed him more than bothersome questions it was repeated bothersome questions. She stared into his eyes as if to examine if there was some way to see if he was being truthful. Surely the girl knew his mind was impenetrable, Snape thought. Somehow however, she seemed to find her answers in his expression. Her body sagged with relief and she leaned back on the dirty walls, completely exhausted.

"He was murdered, blasting curse to the face to be exact," she responded, keeping him up to date tiredly. A flare of anger welled in Severus's chest at the now obvious insinuation.

"And you think I had something to do with it?" He hissed, leaning forward until he was towering over her. He may not have reached the height he'd possessed in his own time, but he'd like to think he could be pretty imposing when he wanted to be. The girl didn't even have the grace to look affronted at his conclusion. Instead she raised one eyebrow lazily in a sardonic manor.

"There's a lot about you I don't know Professor," she explained, not looking one bit put out by his anger. Straightening her back she stared directly into his eyes, Occlumency shields in place, and glared right back at him. Snape briefly got a glimpse of the girl that had managed to make it to Undesirable Number 2, the girl that had the potential to be one of the most formidable fighters he had ever known but instead focused on her books and used logic to fight her battles. He wondered momentarily how long a person could continue to stay out of the fray, it never seemed to last long with Dumbledore. Severus had seen her briefly during the final battle of Hogwarts, hidden under his mask, she had been fierce in her defence of the castle and all that it had represented.

"There's a lot I don't know about you," he countered truthfully, his voice never losing its punitive tone.

"Yes but at least when you tell me something I trust your answer," she responded evenly, her voice full of passion he knew she'd been holding back for some time. She moved to exit through the portrait but he stopped her by putting both of his hands on either side of her head, effectively boxing her in.

"And you think I don't trust you?" He asked, his voice low. He heard her breath hitch at his abrupt action, but he didn't abate his attentions. Instead, he leaned down to get rid of the height difference that separated them until he was peering directly into her eyes. Not for the first time he bitterly regretted her knowledge in the Mind Arts. It would have been so easy to slip into her tumultuous mind and find his answers the way he had grown accustomed to.

"I know you don't," she responded. "Otherwise you wouldn't be keeping me in the dark," she explained starkly. A moment passed between them where they just peered into each other's eyes, both at a stale mate in their peculiar association.

"What if you wouldn't be able to handle it?" He murmured lowly, his voice temporarily losing its ireful edge. He watched as worry crept into the girl's expression, apparently, she wasn't as good at Occlumency as he'd like to believe.

"Let me try," she muttered, but there was something odd in her words, as if they were a repeated sentiment. The tone did nothing to abate his worry. He was saved from replying by the unexpected opening of the heavy portrait, the breeze lifted a small wave of dust over the pair. Standing there, with a mountain of books in his arms, was a lone Hufflepuff seventh year boy. When he caught sight of the pair a flustered expression suddenly appeared on his face. It took longer than Severus would ever like to admit to realise why he looked so mortified. Abruptly he dropped his arms from around Granger's head and took the biggest step back the narrow corridor would allow.

"S-s-s-sorry," the boy muttered. Severus just glared at the stuttering Hufflepuff, he hadn't even appreciated that the secret route was known by anyone other than teaching staff.

"Don't worry about it, we were just leaving," Hermione answered kindly after she'd regained her composure. She stepped down from the portrait opening and out of his reach before he could stop her. With one last disconcerted glance over her shoulder she took off down the corridor and away from him, effectively ending their conversation.

He stared after her, not quite knowing what to make of the enigma of a girl. He wondered if she would have been happier if this world had just left her alone. If she had gone to muggle school like the children in his neighbourhood. He'd always thought them so pathetic when he'd learned of the menial monotonous jobs they'd acquired when they had grown up. Every now and then though, he had found himself wondering if they had perhaps pulled the long straw, with days that could pass without absolutely anything interesting happening. He'd once thought the best thing about life was his magic and the power that came with it, now he wondered if those happy moments that people shared during the intermissions of the drama was what they lived for. If that was so, what was he even fighting for? It was hardly revenge, he'd gotten that a long time ago. For happy moments? He doubted he was even capable of such simplicity.

"Fine catch," the Hufflepuff muttered with a low whistle as he also watched Hermione walk away. His words drew Severus from his thoughts swiftly, he'd almost forgotten the boy was even there.

"Shut up Diggory," he responded simply before heading in the opposite direction. Her words had given him a lot to think about and he needed space to consider his next plan of action.

….

Sirius pushed his mashed potatoes from one side of his plate to the other. He was tired, he'd been up late the night before celebrating being back in the castle with the lads. They'd already begun construction of the second map, but they didn't know how long the development would take. They all hoped it would be shorter than the original, with all the research already completed but they weren't sure. Magic was a fastidious thing that didn't always respond predictably. He glanced around the table at his friends who were all acting much the same as him. Even Marlene, who was usually the most hyperactive of them all, nearly had her face drooping into her dinner. He sighed, the second day of school was always the hardest, the excitement at the novelty of classes was gone and the longing for a sleep-in began.

Suddenly two ginger boys fell into the seats on either side of him, pushing Peter and James down much to their thinly veiled annoyance. Sirius barely raised his head to greet the boys who so rarely decided to sit with them. He knew exactly what this conversation would be about, and he could say honestly, he had no interest in discussing the topic of Luna Prince ever again. The girl seemed to dominate the conversation when she wasn't even around. Especially when she wasn't around.

"Well then, how's this side of the table doing?" Fabian (or at least Sirius assumed it was Fabian) asked.

"We're okay, just a little sleepy," Marlene responded, perking up a little at the presence of the two boys.

"Yeah, we know the feeling," Gideon re-joined with a yawn. Sirius had to resist the urge not to roll his eyes at the subtle brag of the party they'd thrown and not invited them to. Neither twin seemed at all put out at the obvious exclusion, so Sirius was determined to show how little he cared about the snub.

"Anyway, we were just wondering-," Fabian began.

"We were on the opposite side of the room and didn't hear a word Lestrange said to Snape, nor have we seen Prince," Sirius cut across, sensing the direction the conversation was taking. His patience was most definitely fraying when it came to the twins.

"It did seem strange though and she's not in the common room either," Marlene appeased, sending a glare in Sirius's direction. Obviously, she thought he was adding to the unspoken animosity between them.

"Yeah, we heard she's been missing," Gideon commented thoughtfully.

"And naturally you thought we'd be involved," Sirius abridged grumpily. He jolted forward suddenly when Fabian tapped him firmly on the back, his fork landing noisily on his plate.

"You catch on fast Black," he commented with a grin.

"Yeah well better that then-," he began, a snappy retort on his tongue but he paused when he noticed a sullen Slytherin enter the Great Hall. It was strange to see Snape walking like he knew he belonged, there had always been an awkward element to his gait. That had all changed when he'd returned from the Christmas break however. Luna Prince seemed to have done wonders for his self-confidence, Sirius considered grouchily. "If you want answers I'd suggest you head over to the Slytherins, they'd know Luna better than any of us," he corrected sourly.

"That's the thing about you Black, always trying to compensate for that last name of yours. No matter who gets in the way," Fabian quipped back without hesitation. Sirius rose from his seat so quickly the entire table shook. Automatically Fabian rose to stand off against him, an expression of grim amusement covering his usually playful features. In that moment he hated how the ginger Gryffindor was taller than him. He vaguely noticed Gideon reach for some chips, completely unconcerned with the developing enmity.

"Got something to say Black?" Fabian said, seeming almost entertained by his irascibility. Sirius reached for his wand but felt someone grab his arm. He looked back at James who had reached over Gideon in a bid to calm him.

"Take a walk Pads, there's no fight here," he murmured, before letting go and pulling away again. Sirius considered his options, if he were to start a brawl here what would it achieve? He'd finally be able to put a Prewett in his place, that was a major triumph that he'd long since desired. Starting a feud inside his own House wasn't the most desirable of options however. He knew the twins well enough to be assured of a painful retaliation. With a shake of his head he pulled away from the table and headed for the exit, being sure to bump shoulders with Fabian as he did.

"That's what I thought," Fabian called after him.

"There's a time and a place Prewett," he called over his shoulder.

"Name it," Fabian responded but Sirius just walked away. Passing up the opportunity to duel was always difficult for the tempestuous boy, but he knew taking on Fabian Prewett would be the equivalent of clashing with most of Hogwarts. Sure, the Marauders were will liked, but they had stirred a few cauldrons the wrong way during their time at Hogwarts. Most of the students (including a few Slytherins) were incredibly fond of their Head boy.

He stalked through the castle to disperse his irritation, paying no attention to his course. Eventually he found himself on the wooden bridge that made up the rear entrance to the castle. Darkness was falling now, the short January days not yet passed, but he just about made out the figure half way down the winding overpass. He took a few steps forward to make out the identity of the mystery person skipping dinner. Rolling his eyes at his unfortunate luck he considered that it seemed he was destined to associate with Luna Prince. He made his way over to her purposefully, intent on giving her a piece of his mind for disturbing his otherwise peaceful time at Hogwarts.

"Your watch dogs are looking for you," he hollered as he approached her. She didn't even spare him a glance, instead she continued to stare vacantly at the view the tall open bridge provided of the surrounding countryside. He assessed her for a moment before he moved to stand next to her, his arms resting on the wooden safeguard beside hers. He tried to see what was catching her attention of the view, internally admitting it was beautiful in the twilight, the lights of Hogsmeade projecting beautifully into the darkening sky. From her expression he knew that she wasn't here for the view, something else was playing in front of her eyes.

"Not even going to acknowledge me then?" He murmured puerilely. He heard her sigh heavily at his question before she turned sideways to study him.

"What is it you want Sirius?" She questioned irately. Sirius took the chance to really study the girl beside him. Her brown eyes had well defined black bags underneath them and her face looked worn, as if she were more than ready for the day to turn to night. She was still beautiful though, in a powerful way that only reaffirmed his assumptions that she had no place in Pureblood society.

"Tough day?" He found himself asking before he could reign in his curiosity. She snorted inelegantly and turned once more to study the view emptily.

"You could say that," she murmured quietly. Sirius began to feel guilty for disturbing her from her thoughts, she obviously had more going on than the standard Hogwarts student.

"Can't be that bad," he reassured uncharacteristically. He turned himself to face away from her and examine the view as well, hoping the less he saw of her the less awkward he would feel. He'd never been one for comforting or emotions.

"This school, the Professors, the Headmaster are aimed to protect the students not to prepare them," she muttered, her exasperation at the system clear in her tone. Sirius said nothing, hoping that she'd expand on what was bothering her. "I used to get so annoyed when people kept me out of what was going on, what _I'd_ be fighting," she mumbled, the shaky emphasis she'd placed on her own confession of involvement was enough for him to know she was crying, still he didn't turn. His knowledge of how to cope with a crying witch was preciously limited. For some reason he knew that when she spoke of a 'fight' it was more literal than he would understand, and from the information he'd gathered he knew exactly what side of that fight she was on.

"That's just how the world works," Sirius responded.

"It wasn't how _I_ was supposed to work," she mumbled through her tears. "I was supposed to be different but I'm nothing more than a hypocrite," she told herself harshly, leaning down slightly he watched from the corner of his eye as she placed her head in her hands and began to massage her forehead furiously.

"Why's that?" Sirius asked simply.

"I got a muggle detective killed because I ignored him when he asked for help and to fight," she whispered, seeming surprised that she was even confiding in him. If he was being honest he'd have to admit that he was pretty astonished too, the only conversation they'd shared so far had verged on aggressive. Standing there though, so removed from the hustle of Hogwarts there was something familiar about her company. Almost like they were old friends that hadn't spoken in some time and were trying to get to know one another once again, only to discover they hadn't changed at all.

"And instead of being prepared he was just a confused mess that made an easy target," she confessed wearily through her sobs. Flashes of the muggle man that Sirius had seen hassling her in the park, what seemed like months ago, flew through his mind.

"That's not your fault, muggles can't fight wizards Prince," he murmured lowly. She turned to face him, forcing him to meet her watery eyes.

"Anyone can fight if they know their enemies," she warned. "When I turned him away that day, I basically signed his death certificate," she reiterated. Sirius raised his eyebrow at the muggle reference but didn't comment.

"I think who ever killed him did that Prince," he muttered. "You give yourself too much credit," he reassured quietly. She shook her head but didn't respond, instead she turned once more to look out upon the calm countryside. He noticed that she hadn't chosen the side of the bridge that looked out onto the Forbidden Forrest, which in his opinion, was a much more interesting sight.

"Going to tell the whole school why the great Alastor Moody was at school today?" She questioned bitterly. Sirius felt a wave of shock pass over him, he'd not even heard that Moody was on the grounds today. It must have been a serious matter indeed if one of the most promising Aurors in the country was involved. He tried to hide his bewilderment but was glad she was facing away from him. Reaching over, in a rare moment of inspired kindness, he gripped one of her hands that was shaking violently from the cold. It was icy to touch and made him wonder how long she'd been standing out in the elements of the Scottish Highlands.

"I didn't hear anything," he muttered with a conspiring smile that he was sure she missed. She was too absorbed with staring at his hand on hers. Feeling nervous, a sensation he hadn't with girls in years, he let go and moved back. "Come on, I'll walk you up to the common room," he offered with a gesture back towards the castle. She just shook her head once in response.

"I'll follow you up," she added after a slight pause. "There's something I have to do," she muttered, completely oblivious to how mysterious she sounded. He nodded and began to make his way back down the bridge.

"Thanks Sirius," she called after him. He smiled at the gesture but smothered it as he turned one last time to face her.

"Don't stay out here too long, you'll catch your death," he muttered, not knowing quite how to respond to the gratitude. The slight smile that graced her face was enough for him to know that she understood how he felt. Perhaps Luna Prince and he didn't have so little in common after all, he considered as he wandered back towards the castle, blowing hot air into his hands as he walked.

….

Hermione wandered the winding corridors of the familiar school lethargically. She had a destination in mind, she just wasn't very anxious to reach her old hideout that she'd shared so many memories with Ron and Harry. Even the thought of her old friends sent an ache through her heart. Her brief time with Sirius had been surprisingly therapeutic. She was well aware that the old man from her time that had been haunted by Azkaban, had always held a soft spot for her. Ever since she'd flown on the back of a hippogriff to rescue him from the corruption of the Ministry he'd treated her like she was his own godchild. Although she hadn't shared the same inconsolable grief as Harry about his demise she had indeed been deeply disturbed and saddened by his passing. For her his premature end had cemented the start of something terrible far more than the murder of Cedric Diggory ever could.

Belatedly she noticed she had reached her journey's end. Staring at the blank piece of wall she hesitated for a moment, unsure of her own actions. With a determined deep breath she paced three times with a singular thought in her mind.

 _I need the Room of Hidden Things_

The large wooden double door appeared without much fanfare, looking as inviting as ever. She pushed both open with one large thrust. Immediately she was assaulted with the stale scent of the lost that seemed to permeate the air. She'd been in too much of a rush the last time she'd hurried through the room to ever notice anything as trivial as a smell. She closed the doors behind her, confident in the knowledge that they would disappear on the other side.

Absentmindedly she followed the same path that Harry had led her down all those weeks ago. Every turn through the large mounds of hidden things seemed almost instinctual rather than based on a memory. With a sigh she reached out and brushed her hand over the dusty brooms that Ron had ridden with her as she passed. She remembered how she'd clung to him so tightly, they'd just shared their first kiss. She had been so sure in that moment of her love for him. So definite that one day she'd marry him and that they'd be happy forever, that everything in their lives would fall into place when the evil man that had occupied their thoughts was gone. How naïve she'd been.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, knowing that just around the next corner was the only thing in the castle that could really frighten her anymore. She remembered how she'd paused similarly in the Shrieking Shack just before she'd found Severus Snape's body, just before this had all happened. How she longed to scream at herself to leave that horrible house, to walk back towards the castle and spend the rest of her life happy. Just like that day however, she didn't save herself the terrible sight.

The Diadem of Ravenclaw was stunning and looked like it belonged in the Queens' chambers rather than the dusty Room of Requirement. She moved slowly towards it before coming to a stop right in front of it. Perhaps a year ago she wouldn't have felt the darkness that shrouded the magical object but after spending several months with a horcrux around her neck she was well accustomed to the innate evil that seemed to saturate her surroundings. She had long since come to terms with the fact that she wasn't the same girl that had taught DADA in this very room. She knew the taste of darkness and that was something you just didn't forget, no matter how much you tried.

Reaching out with a shaking hand Hermione let it hover over the cursed crown. Immediately she heard the familiar whispers surround her, murmuring all her fears on a ghastly loop in her mind. Masochistically she held her hand in place as long as she could physically tolerate it before she staggered backwards almost knocking a pile of newspapers in the process. A sheen of sweat was developing on her forehead and she felt as weak as she had when she'd first awakened in the past. She sighed, she was out of practice with enduring the darkness.

With a sigh Hermione lowered herself heavily onto the grubby ground until she was sitting cross legged in front of the diadem. She knew it was evil but there was something comforting about sitting across from the enemy, it meant they couldn't sneak up behind her.

"You ruined my life," she hissed angrily at the only part of the antagonist of her story she had access to. "And now you're going to ruin all these peoples' lives and I have to sit back and watch it happen," she murmured angrily, relieved she finally had someone to blame.

"I hope it hurts when Harry ends you," she spat furiously. A few minutes passed but she didn't rise to leave, instead she just sat and watched as the jewels of the circlet glittered madly in the dim light of the room, wondering how something so beautiful was now ruined forever.

 **Please please please review. It really does help you guys :)** **I thought it would be fun to write a Moody from before his Order days bit, things are really starting to pick up now :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**_Thanks so much for all the kind reviews, sorry it took me so long to update this time around. Life has grown unreasonably busy the last few weeks._**

 ** _Special thanks to slythrclw-shdwhntr-46, Katie Moon, Kittenshift17, lizard84, Blue night fairy, ninaaaaa, Artemis Decibal, Zadria Cerulean, skyeryder01, Smithback, brookie88, ante-diem, Lexxxi, butterfly363, Snaperipper, JuliaLestrange, MoonKitten02, Redbeardswoman, FoxesRun, chibichanga. You guys rock and deserve many cookies._**

 _What did I know, what did I know_

 _of love's austere and lonely offices?_

 _-Robert Hayden_

 **Chapter 13**

"Have you lost your way?" A masculine voice called from behind Hermione. She didn't jump, she'd heard his footsteps a few moments before but hoped the familiar gait had been an error on her part. It had been a rough week of avoiding her fellow students' encroaching presences after the Moody incident, not wanting to be inadvertently questioned. She was never very good at spinning lies, her exhaustion encouraged her not to talk at all least she found herself entangled in her own web. She took one more longing glance at the transfiguration classroom door a few feet in front of her and even contemplated pretending she'd not heard his summons.

"Luna," he called once again, sounding even closer. Hermione cringed but reluctantly turned in the busy hallway filled with students waiting for the previous class to leave the room so that they could enter. It seemed a greater proportion of the Hogwarts students in the seventies found themselves early to class.

Fabian Prewett grinned as he approached her, forcing Hermione to immediately rid her face of any emotions that could let slip the pain that pinched at her heart. His strong resemblance to Ron was staggering at times, especially when she hadn't spoken to him in so long. She almost forgot his personality differed so greatly from her old friend. Even if his crooked smile was so similar and his face displayed the same handsomeness that was driven by a cheeky character he still wasn't the same man. A man that she loved. She looked away sharply, unprepared for the assault of memories.

"Well? I hardly expected you to be where you were supposed to be. What with you fleeing the scene whenever I arrive," he commented with a smug smile that she barely caught from the corner of her eye. "If I were any less confident I might think you didn't want to talk to me?" He pushed when it was clear she wasn't going to reply. It was true, the only reason she was early to this class was because she knew the rest of her house were running late for breakfast. It was beyond difficult avoiding people that slept in the same room as her and had nearly identical class schedules. "Luna?" He pushed once more.

"Sorry Fabian, I've not been feeling very well," she answered back, not liking at all how shaky her voice sounded, even to her own ear. She watched as an incredulous expression leaked onto his face as he assessed her with a raised eyebrow. She had the grace to look at the ground in unacknowledged shame at the poorly disguised lie.

"Want to take a walk?" He questioned suddenly, disrupting the uncomfortable silence that had descended on the pair. She released a scoff of amusement despite herself before she lifted her gaze towards his. He was staring at her with familiar merriment dancing just behind his eyes.

"I'm not standing outside this class for my health you know, I actually have to attend," she murmured, not quite managing to suppress her smile. He waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the classroom at her words, narrowly missing a passing first year in the process.

"Nothing you don't know already, or so I've been told," he responded with a grin. Her smile flickered momentarily at the mention of the infamous gossip factory that was Hogwarts. She was sure most people had heard about her above average intellect and not for the first time she questioned Snape's decision for her to flaunt her talent.

"I have so much still to learn," she responded simply, ducking her head once more to avoid his speculative gaze.

"I doubt anything you have to learn is in that class," he answered as he pointed to the classroom that was slowly emptying. From over Fabian's shoulder she noticed Severus round the corner sedately with his head buried in some book she was sure he'd read a thousand times before. The last week had been extremely tense between the pair. To keep appearances they had sat beside one another in every class but hadn't so much as said a word. Hermione's anger had not dissipated with time and his reluctance to trust her was still apparent forcing a stale mate that left both uncomfortable. She shifted her gaze towards Fabian and considered her options for a moment, she could stay and endure another repeated lecture with only tension for company or she could take a walk.

"Let's go," she muttered under her breath before turning on her heel and heading in the opposite direction to Severus, hoping the Potions Professor wouldn't notice her retreating figure. She didn't even have to look to know that Fabian was following her down the corridor. She passed Lily and Alice without meeting their eyes. She didn't have to hear their thinly veiled questions about her little adventure with the Auror Department to know the girls had been beyond curious about her past. No doubt the outing with Fabian would only enhance their curiosity. Marlene had been the only girl in her dorm who hadn't so much as sent her an odd glance when the rumours were circulating around the castle. She guessed that was primarily due to the fact that the other two had already tried their luck.

The pair headed towards the front exit of the castle, winding through staircases and corridors silently. Sun streamed through the glass windows warming Hermione's face as they passed each one at a hurried pace. It seemed strange to her that the day could be so bright and so full of possibilities when part of her was still stuck in the dark night of the battle. Hogwarts was a burrow of disparity, on one hand her childhood memories made the castle feel homely and safe and on the other every corner seemed to house a tragedy that echoed through her mind.

"Stop that," Fabian muttered as he held open the heavy oak front door for her.

"Stop what exactly?" Hermione questioned bemusedly as she followed him down the entrance steps slowly. Fabian turned with a sceptical expression covering his face.

"Running around in that head of yours, it's a beautiful day, enjoy it," he ordered, she supressed a smile at the familiar words. She had often said something similar to Harry when he'd allowed thoughts of the Dark Lord to encroach on his already stressful days. She lamented her naivety with a shake of her head. If only she had known then that dark musings could never be simply willed away.

Valiantly Fabian offered her his arm. She rolled her eyes at the dated action but reached out and linked her arm with his as she'd done with Harry so many times before. If she closed her eyes she could almost pretend that she was still out in the fresh air of the forest as they tried to find the best area to camp for the night. She'd know that there was someone out there that she could trust, that knew everything about her and accepted her for what and who she was. Harry would always catch her when she fell, he'd trust her with all his secrets and depend on her.

"My my, you are a quiet one Lady Prince," Fabian commented as he tugged her in the direction of the forest.

"There are a hoard of girls you could have taken on this walk that would talk your ear off," she countered easily.

"Ah," he began with a smirk. "But I bet those girls haven't used Liquid Luck before. Boring girls, not a convicted felon betwixt them," he added gripping tightly onto the arm that she automatically tried to withdraw at his not so subtle reference to her exploits with the Auror Department. She glared at him, letting anger pore through her Occlumency shields and into her eyes.

"Is that what this walk is? A ploy for gossip?" She hissed, once again trying to tug her arm from his grip which was firm. Fabian didn't even look ruffled at her blatant annoyance, instead he looked vaguely amused.

"Calm down gel, I was only trying to make you look a little normal," he said using his free arm to gesture towards her eyes. "Don't think I haven't noticed how blank you've been up here lately," he elucidated with a gentle smile. Bitterly she stopped her struggles, not that they were achieving much in the first place and began to walk forward. The grounds were relatively quiet, most students were still having their breakfast or readying for their first class of the day.

"You're so irritating," she muttered before she could help herself. To her surprise Fabian released a loud belly laugh at her words. She turned to glare at him, searching for an explanation to his bizarre behaviour. He caught his breath and finally locked eyes with her.

"That, my dear, is the most honest I've ever heard you talk," he muttered as he tried to control himself. She rolled her eyes, but her smile seemed to betray her.

"You've barely known me for two weeks Prewett," she commented to spite him. He nodded his head amongst his titters.

"And what a riveting few weeks its been," he replied with an emotion she couldn't read glistening in his familiar eyes. Before she knew where her feet were taking her she was in front of the Black Lake, the murky water glistened in the winter morning light almost threateningly. Not even she, a muggleborn, could ever consider the lake to be filled with anything as mundane as water and fish. She stared at the familiar patch of grass to her right that was now covered in morning dew. She didn't have to close her eyes to see poor Colin Creevey lying on the wet earth, the image was scarred into her brain.

"Luna?" Fabian muttered, perhaps noticing the sudden change in her disposition.

Hermione ignored him and took a small step forward, just as she'd done that night, before leaning down slowly. Fabian released her arm immediately this time when she tugged gently. Reaching out she touched the wet grass with her shaking hands. She wondered momentarily if the future was just carrying on without her. Had her Professors found Colin Creevey's lifeless body and her missing presence. It went against the laws of time that she had begun to understand throughout the last few years, but a part of her wished that her friends were carrying on in a world far from the depravity of the Dark Lord. That perhaps they missed her and were trying their level best to bring her back home. Harry would never do nothing while she struggled here, he'd never forget her.

"Luna?" Fabian repeated himself, his voice now edged with poorly disguised concern. Once again she ignored him, instead she stalked forward hurriedly and followed the same route she'd taken that night. Fabian followed her determined strides diligently. She paused when she reached the same tree she'd braced against when she'd broken down, the years had changed its thick trunk minimally. She reached out one shaking hand and ran her hand over the rough wood. Turning around slowly she took in the view.

The Shrieking Shack, perhaps recently constructed, looked exceptionally similar to its counterpart in the future, right down to the flaking paint and rusted metal door. It seemed that the house was destined to look run down to scare off the occasional nosy spectator. Stalking forward she pushed open the wooden door before she was grabbed from behind by strong arms.

"Woah there love, you don't want to be heading in there," Fabian muttered into her ear through her thick messy curls. "I've heard talk in the village-," he began but Hermione interrupted by shaking him off violently.

"Don't ever grab me like that again," she spat angrily, she didn't think she'd ever be able to handle being grabbed from behind after last year's series of fiascos. She watched the hurt flicker through Fabian's eyes but she ignored it. Her whole body felt on edge the closer she drew to the house and she couldn't help but wish that he would leave her alone.

"There are certain things that not even _Lady Prince_ should mess with and an angry poltergeist is one of them," he advised once he'd gathered his composure. She noticed how he'd used her name as a weapon, almost as if the surname was just a synonym for arrogance. She took another step forward until she stood in front of the door that she had bloodied her hands upon. "I'm serious Luna," Fabian muttered when he noticed the girl had no intention of heeding his advice.

"Go back to the castle Prewett," she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she reached over and pulled the latch of the door. It creaked open ominously, curiously unlocked even in the past. She hesitated for a moment, unsure what this torture on her mind would achieve. Something in her gut screamed for her to move forward however and before she'd even registered her actions she'd taken a big step through the threshold. She padded slowly down the ruined hallway tracing her fingers absent-mindedly along the fresh claw marks embedded in the wallpaper as she moved. The house was definitely less water damaged then it had been in her time, but it still possessed the same ambiance that seemed to echo the torment that had been endured between the magically reinforced walls.

Hermione paused before she turned the corner, just as she had done all those months ago. She took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. Somehow, she knew that she needed to do this, to see what was haunting her. Bracing herself for the memories she stalked forward with clenched fists. For a moment the corner of the wall that Severus Snape had occupied all those years in the future was empty. The large blood stain that had soaked into the wooden floor boards was absent and the house was calm for a short time.

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed out deeply, somehow knowing when she opened them she wouldn't be alone in the room. Sure enough, when she looked once more into the dilapidated corner of the room, her mind had projected the striking image of Severus Snape's prone form. She took a few steps forward, the floor boards creaking with every move she made. Suddenly she wasn't some school girl masquerading as a Pureblood, she was Hermione Granger just after the Battle of Hogwarts, following the very actions she had taken all those months ago. She leaned down near the fabrication of her Potion's Professor hazily remembering that she had whispered an apology to the withered man. She had leaned forward to close his dark empty eyes with her right hand, which were still bloodied from when she'd hammered on the rough metal door of the Shack.

"Gotcha," the echo of a voice whispered into her mind. A creek of a floor board dislodged her from her memories harshly. She twisted swiftly, her wand already drawn and pointed out in front of her.

"Merlin Luna," Fabian hissed at her abrupt reaction. It took a moment for her to even remember that Fabian had been out on a walk with her, and even longer to realise why he was in the decrepit house. She had naïvely thought he had headed back to the castle upon her direction, she supposed the very action would have betrayed his Gryffindor pride. No haunted house should hold back one of Godric's lot, she thought somewhat bitterly. "What are you even doing down there?" He questioned quietly, his expression not so dissimilar to another lovable redhead when he'd caught sight of a spider.

"Remembering," she responded vaguely. She took one more look around the room before the reality of the memory she had just witnessed sunk into her already exhausted mind. "Remembering everything," she added more to herself, not even noticing how her voice broke half way through her response or the single tear that leaked down her flushed cheek.

….

Severus Snape was absolutely furious. The impetuous girl had skipped all her classes today, including Defence Against the Dark Arts which had no doubt come to the attention of the already curious Auror. He hated how she'd managed to worry him over nothing but her own volatile behaviour. For a moment he had considered the possibility that Auror Moody himself had swept her away from the castle. That was until he had heard that the Hogwart's gossip mill was churning a rumour that she had disappeared with Fabian into the grounds before Transfiguration this morning. He watched from the Slytherin table as Gryffindor house filed into the hall for their dinner with rage simmering just behind his Occlumency shields.

When he finally noticed the redheaded twins entered the hall he watched their every move. One of the twins, he was not acquainted with them enough to tell them apart, sent him a surreptitious glance. His face was pale and it was easy to see how anxious he was. Once again Severus's heart sped when he noticed that Granger didn't follow him. He cursed the hold she had on his fraying nerves. He bitterly lamented the well substantiated fact that Gryffindor's could never simply follow orders.

"Mister Snape?" A familiar voice called from behind him. Every muscle in Severus's body froze momentarily in recognition. He had been so preoccupied with his assessment of the Prewett's to even notice the elderly man's approach. He turned slowly, ensuring his Occlumency shields were in place.

"Headmaster?" He questioned with a slight incline of his head, from the corner of his eye he noticed his housemates trying their best to listen in on the unusual exchange.

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind visiting my office for a few moments?" The elderly man asked, eyeing him from above his half-mooned spectacles. Severus wasn't naïve enough to think that this was an optional visit. He internally cursed the flighty brunette for what he supposed was a meeting pertaining to what ever she had gotten up to today. He tried to supress the panic that immediately attempted to take hold of his mind, replacing it with anger. She was probably fine and had made a few little mistakes, he reassured himself.

"Of course Sir, right now?" Severus responded cautiously. He watched as Dumbledore nodded his head once before lifting his gaze and sending a summoning glance towards the Gryffindor table. Severus watched fretfully as one of the twins rose from his seat and began to walk towards the exit of the Great Hall. He stood hollowly and began to walk sedately behind Dumbledore. There was no doubt in his mind that this wasn't going to be an easy encounter.

Eventually they made it to the entrance of Dumbledore's office, the familiar Gargoyle eyeing Severus warily. He had walked side by side with Prewett on route, but the boy had studiously kept silent, going so far as to avoid his gaze. Although Severus was beyond apprehensive he would never use Legilimency in such close proximity to Dumbledore. His anxiety skyrocketed when he entered the familiar office and Granger was nowhere to be seen.

"Please take a seat," Dumbledore encouraged with a gesture towards the comfortable seats in front of his desk as he himself sat. Severus longed to demand that the Headmaster just get to the point like he would have in his own time, instead he obediently took a seat and tried to ignore his frustration. He noticed Fabian hesitate before doing the same.

"Well Mister Snape, it brings me no joy to tell you this, but I believe your cousin to be missing," Dumbledore explained with a sombre tone that he usually reserved for matters of utmost seriousness. Severus had heard that tone directed at him far too often not to recognise it.

"Missing?" Severus responded sharply. The panic that he'd been denying for so long came sweeping back threatening to engulf his senses.

"Indeed, Mister Prewett brought her abrupt disappearance to my attention a few hours ago-," Dumbledore began but Severus could no longer withhold his scorn.

"And I am only now being informed?" He hissed. He watched as Dumbledore's eyes narrowed at his aggressive tone. He knew his rashness was suspicious, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to care if his over familiarity got him in trouble at that very moment.

"I myself conducted a search for Miss Prince and after finding she was absent I took it upon myself to contact your mother," Dumbledore finished as if he'd never been interrupted in the first place. Severus held his breath, well aware that his mother could ruin everything with just a few well meant words. "She was however, unfortunately brief in her direction to locate Miss Prince," he finished, his crisp blue eyes staring over the rims of his glasses with a speculative expression coating his face. "She seemed to think that you'd be the best person to aid in the investigation," he finished.

"Why investigate at all?" Severus couldn't help but inquire, not fully able to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"When a student goes missing Mister Snape, without any word of explanation, it is my duty as Headmaster to ensure their safety," Dumbledore responded succinctly, his eyes narrowing at Severus's clear lack of faith in the school's commitment to the well being of its students. "I've taken it upon myself to pre-emptively contact the Auror Department," he continued, his voice returning to its usual airy quality that Severus associated with the man cunningly fishing for information. Severus's blood ran cold at the mention of the dreaded Department. "It was interesting that there was no record of a Miss Prince, well exempting the recent file submitted by Auror Moody that I assure was done without my consent," he finished with enough of a lilt in his voice to imply a question.

"She was born in France," Severus answered easily.

"Which is why I immediately sought out her previous files from the French Ministry, quite surprising that she didn't exist there either," Dumbledore countered swiftly, a twinkle shimmering in his eyes.

"The Princes aren't exactly known for their communication with the Ministry Professor," Snape replied dismissively, not at all liking how curious the old man was growing. "What has this to do with the location of my cousin's whereabouts?" He pushed, desperate for a change of topic.

"Nothing at all, my boy, nothing at all," Dumbledore murmured before turning to face the redheaded boy who sat rigidly in his seat, obviously dreading the impending conversation. "Mister Prewett if you would be so kind as to repeat what you told me earlier today, for Mister Snape's benefit," he invited softly. Prewett hesitated for a moment, casting a nervous glance in Severus's direction.

"It's like I said Sir, we took a walk out towards Hogsmeade and stopped by that house the villagers have been gossiping about," Prewett repeated nervously. Any ability Severus had at abating his dread disappeared at the mention of what had to be the Shrieking Shack. He had the sudden urge to lean over and vomit on the floor beside him. "She walked straight up to it, even when I tried to tell her about the stories. It was like something was possessing her to enter the wreck," he confided quietly. "She told me to go back up to the castle and I got so angry I waited outside for a few seconds," he continued with poorly guised shame. "When I followed her in she was mumbling hysterically about remembering something. I tried to grab her to shake some sense into her, but she bolted out of the house, I barely caught a glimpse of her apparating," he finished weakly.

"So much for Gryffindor courage," Snape hissed, irrationally blaming the teenager for his growing problems. If the girl really knew, all his plans would be well and truly ruined.

"Mister Snape," Dumbledore warned.

"No Sir, it's true. If I hadn't paused…," Prewett muttered downheartedly. "Merlin only knows what ever spirit in that house infected her with," he mused miserably.

"Let us not get carried away," Dumbledore comforted lightly. "There is likely a simple explanation for all of this," he continued before turning to face Severus once again. "It seems we must do some field work Mister Snape, is there any place that you believe Miss Prince would visit when distressed," he questioned. Snape supposed that it was easy for the Professor the dismiss the involvement of the supernatural when he knew the true purpose of the Shrieking Shack.

"Only my parents," Snape responded, suddenly feeling exhausted. He only knew the girl well enough to appreciate the fact that if she didn't want to be found she wouldn't be. He wondered fleetingly if he would ever see her again.

"Then we'll start with the surrounding area," Dumbledore decided firmly. He stood purposefully before approaching Severus's chair and holding out his hand. He stared at it absently for a moment. "Well come now, don't dawdle," Dumbledore encouraged once again shaking his hand. In the hurry Severus had almost forgotten that the headmaster of Hogwarts had the right to apparate within the walls, it was a benefit that he himself had taken advantage of in his time. He reached out slowly, ensuring his Occlumency shields were fully in place, before he gripped the man's hand tightly.

….

Eileen Snape was having a most peculiar day. It had started slowly, as most days did now that Luna and Severus were back in school. She had packed a lunch for Tobias who had been uncharacteristically pious heading to work the last few weeks. Then she had popped out to get some groceries for the dinner, which she usually ate early when Olive finished school. The girl seemed to be quite content to continue visiting even without Luna present. Eileen usually left the rest of the dinner resting for whenever Tobias made it home.

That particular day however, when she returned from her daily outing a barn owl rested on her window sill. Thinking nothing of it, seeing as how Luna responded quite devoutly to little Olive, she continued about her business. The owl seemed completely affronted by her dismissive behaviour and squawked indignantly for her attention.

"Alright, alright," Eileen attempted to comfort as she reached for the letter while stroking his beautiful brown plumage. The Hogwart's seal on the envelope immediately set her on edge, neither Severus or Luna would be so official in their writing. Pulling out a knife from her drawer she slit open the seal quickly before perusing the contents of the official letter.

 _Dear Mrs Snape,_

 _I am most displeased to inform you of the sudden disappearance of Miss Luna Prince from the grounds of Hogwarts as of ten o'clock this morning. I am hoping that this is simply a misunderstanding and that Miss Prince is indeed with you. However, in accordance with the Standard Operating Procedure for the Management Of Missing Children that has been drafted by the school governors I have contacted the Auror Department lest this turn to a serious matter that requires legal attention. A swift response would be most appreciated._

 _Kind Regards,_

 _Albus Dumbledore_

A hand flew to Eileen's mouth as she took in the words written in an elegant scrawl that practically exuded intelligence. _The Auror Department_ , she repeated to herself thoroughly unsettled. She shook her head as she considered the mess that her son had found himself in. It didn't take an expert to understand the seriousness of the situation. Immediately she grabbed a discarded pen from the table that she used to write her shopping lists and tried to formulate an appropriate response. After a few tense moments she reread her missive nervously.

 _Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_

 _While it comes as a great disappointment to me to hear of Luna's absence and apparent dismissal of the educational opportunities that you most kindly granted her I must remind you that I am not her guardian, a fact that I stated clearly in our previous correspondences. Luna is very much her own entity and I have the utmost confidence that should she wish to return to resume living in my family's home she will find her way. That is not to say that I will not inform you should I meet her. For any other information on my niece's whereabouts I suggest you ask my son who is closer to Luna than I ever had the opportunity to be._

 _Many thanks for your concern and kind considerations,_

 _Eileen Prince_

She shook her head, her confidence waning each time she reread her empty words. She knew her son was in trouble the second she had seen him wondering up their driveway with a girl in his arms. Just how much trouble she couldn't be sure. She hoped she had given her sons the tools he needed in life to pick the right side of the war that was so clearly brewing in the wizardry world. A war that had been foreseen even during her own childhood. The day passed slowly after the letter. Olive came and left in a blur for Eileen. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had not heard the last of Luna's disappearance.

When Tobias finally trudged through the front door, throwing his heavy workman's boots against the coat rack that had resided in the house even before they had bought it, she tried her best to disguise her worry. She couldn't help but wonder what her husband's reaction would be if the Headmaster were to pay a visit in person. Tobias ate alone in the kitchen while Eileen folded the freshly cleaned laundry in the sitting room. When he was finished he wandered into the room collapsing heavily into an armchair across from her. His recent actions confused her greatly, he had been spending more time around her then he had for years. Usually he would have fled the house for the pub by now.

Eileen watched as he picked up the broadsheet slowly, his hands shaking as he did so making it harder for him to turn the thin pages. A great affection swelled in her heart as she watched him. A flash of the young uniformed man she'd fell in love with all those years ago flew through her mind. She could remember clearly how he had smiled across the train station at her when they had first met, his eyes so full of pain. Oh, how he had made her laugh when she had thought her heart empty after fleeing her parents. She crossed the room slowly, approaching him cautiously, before reaching out and prying the paper from his hands. Quickly she sifted through the large sheets before withdrawing the Business Section which she knew had been his goal. He looked startled at her interruption but didn't voice any complaints.

Eileen thrust the section into his hands gently with a smile clear in her eyes. He watched her for a moment before he grabbed her small hand in his and squeezed it gently, bringing it to his chapped lips. He pressed a tender yet firm kiss into her knuckles, never once dropping eye contact. A moment of sweet solidarity passed between the pair, briefly they were teenagers again running all over London to escape their troubles. She could see the gratitude and affection shining clearly in the eyes he shared with their son. He dropped her hand as quickly as he had taken it before coughing loudly and shaking out the noisy paper. The moment was gone but Eileen felt lighter as she crossed the room once more to finish tidying the clothes away.

A knock on the door a few minutes later disturbed them from their peace. Eileen felt her blood run cold, knowing in her heart that it was not Olive that waited for her on the other side. Tobias watched her worried face speculatively from over the paper. She stood quickly, seeing no point in delaying the inevitable, and headed out of the room and towards the door.

"Mrs Snape," Albus Dumbledore greeted with a large smile the moment she had opened the door. "How do you do?" He questioned lightly. He was dressed in dark blue robes that she had no doubt were attracting the attention of all their neighbours. She waved him in immediately, never one to cause a scene. Belatedly, she noticed her son trail in behind the imposing figure of the Headmaster. To the outsider the teenager might look completely unaffected by the situation, but Eileen was no stranger, she could see the clear tension in his stance.

"I am quite well Headmaster, to what do I owe the pleasure?" She responded, proud that her voice didn't shake.

"We were in the neighbourhood looking for signs that Miss Prince was around and decided it might be an idea to swing around for some tea. That is of course, if you'll have us?" He questioned with a light tone. Eileen had no doubt that there was no _we_ involved in the decision to visit Spinners End. She was pretty sure her son would rather swallow his own foot than bring the Headmaster back to his beginnings.

"Why I'd be delighted," she responded with a hollow smile. She gestured towards the kitchen and moved to lead them, closing the sitting room door as she passed. She hoped her husband would stay in the worn room reading his paper. "Milk and sugar?" She pushed as she turned the stove on and began to fill the kettle with water.

"Both please," Dumbledore replied with a polite smile.

"No sign of Luna?" Eileen questioned once an awkward silence had descended in the room. She was quite sure that the Headmaster was using the quiet as a weapon to encourage discussion.

"Not hide nor tail," he responded with a smile. "We have been most diligently searching, have we not my boy?" He asked turning towards Severus who was remaining stubbornly quiet throughout the whole affair.

"Of course," Severus confirmed with a small incline of his head. The door swung open loudly as Tobias entered the kitchen. His narrowed eyes examined the occupants of the room warily, his expression flickering with shock when he noticed Severus's presence. They so rarely received visitors, his alcoholism preventing most budding friendships, that Eileen was sure her husband was more than a little suspicious of their guests.

"Mister Snape I presume?" Albus greeted, rising from his chair politely and extending his hand cordially. A tense moment passed while Tobias visually appraised the insanity that was Albus Dumbledore. Eileen felt Severus's dark eyes bore into the side of her head, pleading for her to for once keep her husband under control. Of his own accord however, Tobias leaned forward and clenched the hand of the wizened old man in a tight handshake.

"You have me at a disadvantage sir," Tobias muttered, his rough northern accent ill-fitted to the genteel words.

"Albus Dumbledore at your service," he responded with a smile. "I'm just in the area hoping to catch a sighting of your niece-in-law," he explained jovially, as if missing children were a thing of humour. Eileen supressed a flinch at the Headmaster's words, she had not felt the need to explain the exactitudes of Luna's cover story in the Wizardry World to her husband. She eyed him warily, unsure of his reaction.

"Young Luna is a flighty creature," Tobias responded simply, surprising his family massively with his casual demeanour.

"You both have no idea where she could have disappeared to?" Albus asked casually, his eyes assessing the married couple with a touch of trepidation.

"As I explained before Sir, Severus would have a better authority on the matter than we would," she responded firmly as she began to fix up the cups of tea.

"Strange, most children flock to their parents, or the equivalent in such times of indecision," Albus explained as he graciously accepted a cup from Eileen before beginning to add two extra sugar cubes on top of what she'd already added. She watched as a curious expression marred her husband's face for a moment before he reached out and opened the kitchen door once again.

"Severus, seeing as your home, would you mind helping me lift the compost out of the shed?" Tobias questioned loudly. Eileen watched as Severus turned his gaze from his father to the Headmaster, it was strange to her that he should look to him for permission to obey his own flesh and blood. It was indeed an odd request that Tobias had proposed, especially when one considered that he had not set a foot in the garden since they entered the house all those years ago.

"Far be it from me to get in the way of parental education," Albus replied to Severus's questioning glance with a large smile. "It is after all the basis for everything learned at Hogwarts. I myself will admit to having vinicultural aspirations along with my father and brother when I was young," he confided as he stirred his tea casually with a wave of his finger. From the corner of her eye she watched as Tobias stood momentarily transfixed by the casual display of magical talent. Snape stood and approached his father.

"Dad?" He asked, displacing Tobias from his obvious daze. Eileen watched as her husband shook himself off and nodded towards his son, hardly acknowledging that that one syllable was the most his son had spoken to him for several months. Eileen watched them leave the room mournfully, thoroughly displeased to be left alone with the powerful wizard.

….

Severus followed behind his father warily, entirely unsure what the older man was aiming for. He watched as his father hobbled towards the old wooden shed at the back of their pathetic garden. There was no doubt in his mind that his father had no intention of renovating the barn wasteland that was the plot of his childhood. Tobias pulled open the rusted lock on the door before ushering him in without meeting his eyes. Severus fingered his wand in his pocket, uncomfortable with his father's sudden interest.

They stepped into the shed together, Tobias immediately filing towards the opposite end of the small enclosure facing away from his son. A moment passed where Severus just stared at his father's back before he turned.

"Well go on," Tobias muttered hurriedly.

"Go on?" Severus repeated slowly, his disbelief apparent at his father's casual tone.

"Come on boy, I saw your face at the table when the Headmaster was talking. You know where she is," Tobias responded, his dark eyes assessing his son with a detached acceptance.

"I don't know anything," Severus responded firmly. It was true indeed that he had received a bit of a brainwave while the Headmaster was discussing the tendency of children to flock towards their parents, but how could his father know that? His occlumency shields had never lowered, not for a moment.

"Laddy, I've been staring into that face of yours far longer than you've been born," Tobias responded, shocking his son slightly. Severus had often wondered how a person like his mother had ended up with someone as hot-headed as his father, so much so that any reference to their past was quite startling. He knew he looked like his mother, he had just never realised that Tobias recognised that particular trait of his. "I know enough of your expressions to see when you're hiding something," he finished lowly. The idea that a muggle such as Tobias could see through his layers of protection was quite astonishing.

"I don't know where she is," he repeated, less definitely this time.

"Aye, but I reckon you have a good hunch that you're dying to test out," Tobias responded, his lip quirking to the right in a half smile that faded so quickly that Severus thought he had imagined it. "So, go on, blink yourself out of here and see," he retorted. It took Severus longer than he'd ever care to admit to understand that 'blinking' was a reference to apparating. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was a hoax of his father's creation. His eyes trailed around the room in an attempt to clear his head. He paused for a moment at the sight that befell him.

A giant bag of compost lay in the corner of the shed hidden partially by a few bulbs that were haphazardly blooming in every direction. Severus took a moment to assess the reasoning that Tobias could possibly have for the sudden purchase. _Surely, he wasn't trying to decorate the garden?_ Severus thought distrustfully. He lifted his gaze to study his father once more. Tobias was staring at an old box of tools thrown on the ground at his feet. Now that Severus was examining him solely it was clear that the man was painfully sober. He shook his head, not liking the implications a fact like that provided. Instead of dealing with the emotions or asking another question Severus immediately apparated away, leaving the uncomfortable feelings for another day or perhaps to never be considered again.

…..

Hermione sat in the d green bench, her feet stripped of her shoes and resting in the well-manicured grass that surrounded her. She felt numb, more so than she ever had. It was the same detached emotion one gets just before they wake up from a dream that had taken an odd turn. She stared at the large house just outside the park, its stone walls and wooden archway hadn't changed even a little since she'd last seen them. She sighed when she heard the easily recognisable footsteps approach her from behind.

"I didn't think you'd look here," Hermione murmured as Severus took a seat on the bench beside her. It was a frigid evening but the sun was shining its last goodbye of the day on the park providing a little warmth.

"Dumbledore mentioned something about parents when we paid a visit to mine," he explained succinctly. Hermione didn't react to the mention of the esteemed Headmaster, she had after all disappeared from the school grounds. She would have been more surprised if no one thought to inform a member of staff.

"When were you going to tell me?" Hermione asked, bitterness coating her voice. She brushed her tears away angrily, irritated that they betrayed her emotions. She still wore her school uniform but it was ruffled and her tie was thrown chaotically on the grass beside her shoes. It was obvious that she had been sitting in the same position for some time now.

"There was a reason you didn't remember," Severus commented, his voice tense.

"I trusted you," she hissed angrily in response.

"And I never betrayed that," Severus stated clearly. She scoffed at his audacity.

"Rabastan Lestrange murdered me before I woke up to this hell and you think by not bothering to tell you were a vision of loyalty?" Hermione growled angrily. She placed her head in her hands and began to rub her eyes furiously, hoping that when she opened them again she'd be anywhere but here.

"Miss Granger-," he attempted.

"Don't," she commanded firmly.

"Don't what?" Severus muttered bemusedly.

"Don't use the hold you had on me as a Professor to explain this away," she susurrated wickedly, all her patience had deserted her the second she had entered The Shrieking Shack this morning.

"Hermione," he began again in an appeasing manor. "There was a reason your mind hid this knowledge from you, you simply weren't ready…," he tried.

"No one is ready to know that they've been murdered you fool," she cut across once again. It was the first time Severus had ever heard her insult anyone so directly and she could tell it had stunned him. "I figured out what it is you don't want me to know," Hermione snarled heatedly.

"And what is that?" Severus asked in a tone that suggested he was treading very carefully.

"There is no going _back_ Snape," Hermione responded irately. "Not if we're both dead there," she continued her voice breaking half way through. "I don't even really know if this is the past anymore or if it's some strange afterlife that I've got saddled with you as punishment for my sins," she finished manically. She clawed at her hair, pulling at the routes hoping to clear the chaos that was circling her mind.

"This isn't some muggle religious experience, you are magical, and this is very much magical," Snape responded authoritatively. Hermione rose from her seat suddenly, scattering her shoes further across the grass in the process. She leaned to her right so that she was towering over him.

"Then you should have killed me the second you saw me, at least then a timeline where Voldemort is dead would be preserved," Hermione hissed. A flash of anger streaked through Severus's eyes at the comment. He rose from his seat in a rush forcing her to take an unsteady step backwards.

"Are you so stupid as to think that I could preserve this time line? I don't remember every word and decision that I have made over the last twenty years," he hissed. "And I refuse to let good people die with this opportunity," he added furiously.

"You refuse?" She responded in disbelief. "Let's face it here Severus there's only one person in this time that you care enough about to save, and you've pretty much sacrificed her son to do it," she roared indignantly. A woman walking her dog took in the scene with interest, slowing down momentarily before hurrying along when Severus sent her a glare.

"How dare you," Severus cursed.

"Very easily," she responded snappily. "I have been cleaning up the mess you made for years and when it was finally over, when Harry and I finally had a chance to be happy, you create an entirely new one," she growled, gesticulating hysterically with every word.

"I did _not_ send us to this past," Severus responded irritably.

"The only thing I don't understand is why I'm standing in front of you at all?" She questioned disconcertedly. "Why didn't the great Severus Snape strip me of my memories and place me in a continent far far away where I couldn't interfere with his imperial plans?" She asked sardonically. Her tear stained cheeks were glowing red and there was a spitting fury on the precipice of her emotions. She noticed a flash of something that looked very close to guilt flicker momentarily onto his face. Then a thought occurred to her. Her hand flew to her mouth and she suddenly felt like she needed to vomit.

"Hermione," he endeavoured to appease.

"You don't know where they are, do you?" She questioned, completely ignoring his attempt at civility. He had the grace to look ashamed at her conclusion. "Dumbledore never told you where the Horcruxes were," she continued in stunned disbelief. Severus shook his head once in confirmation. She sent him a disgusted look.

"And what was the plan? Manipulate me until I tell you their locations? Trick me into trusting you?" She hissed. He didn't respond, he was too busy staring at the grass at her feet. "Why not pry it from my mind? You took great pleasure in doing that to Harry," she accused vehemently, he didn't even dispute her claims.

"Your mind is so guarded already, I barely got a glimpse of Rabastan that first day I found you before you'd managed to hide that away too," he explained, his tone was filled with shame that she didn't trust. "You're a natural Occlumens," he concluded.

"So all those lessons at Christmas? That was just you trying to force your way past my defences?" She pushed furiously. Snape nodded his head in acquisition to the claim.

"I taught you how to take from your natural skill and better conceal your immediate emotions, but your memories were well protected without my input," he explained. Hermione sent him another disgusted glare.

"You make me sick," she hissed irately. "The only reason you're even stood here bothering to explain this to me is because you need my help," she accused bitterly.

"What does it matter?" Snape asked suddenly. "You're not going home, that life is gone," he stated brutally. "Help me to defeat the Dark Lord and make the future like it should have been," he pleaded, his dark eyes beseeching her to abide by his commands. She scoffed once more at his audacity.

"There you go again, thinking I'm going to abide by your rules," Hermione commented with a cold humourless laugh. "If I choose to fight the Dark Lord in this time it'll be on my terms. I won't be treated like a child by you anymore Snape," she finished, her tears had finally stopped falling and now she felt more exhausted than she ever had before.

"Then we'll be partners," Snape declared somewhat desperately, he took a step forward hesitantly. Hermione paused for a moment as if to check to see if he was being serious. "True partners," he repeated earnestly.

"You don't know the meaning," she responded tiredly.

"I'll share everything with you, the Dark Lords plans' and everything I can remember from this time. I'll even train you to duel as well as I can," he reasoned, he held his hands out in front of him in an appeasing gesture. It almost felt like he thought she was a feral cat that would scare easily if he made any sudden movements. "Just please Hermione, you need me to end this and I most certainly need you," he implored. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment trying to consider the options her frazzled mind could formulate.

Suddenly the front door of her childhood house swung open gently. She watched as the familiar man walked out of his house and headed towards his blue car. Daniel Granger looked so young that it stunned Hermione. He seemed to be thinking about something intently as he didn't so much as raise his head towards the park across the way. She watched his familiar gait sadly, the weight of the day settling uncomfortably on her shoulders.

"Leave me," Hermione muttered.

"Excuse me?" Severus asked, but his voice sounded far away as she watched her father start up his car.

"I'll consider what you said. Just let me grieve for a while, I lost more today than any day in the war," she murmured, the exhaustion almost crippling her. She watched from the corner of her eyes as he shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

"Will you come back to Hogwarts?" He questioned quietly. She paused for a moment and considered her options.

"I think so," she settled on.

"How do I know you won't just disappear?" He asked when a few seconds of uncomfortable silence had passed. For a moment Hermione wondered if she tried to leave whether he'd use force to stop her. What extremes he'd use to get the precious information she carried were completely unknown to her.

"I guess you'll have to trust me," she replied with an acrimonious grin that twisted her pretty features unattractively. Snape apparated soon after without another word. She collapsed heavily in her seat, not quite finished watching the house that had once felt so much like home. Even the bench she sat on had propped her up so many times as she read through book after book on hot summer days when her mother would order her out of the house. She wondered painfully if she'd ever feel the comforts of home again. The thought twisted her stomach uncomfortably.

 **Please Please Please review. I could really do with a pick me up after the last few weeks. Just a little shout out to that guest reviewer who at Chapter 7 guessed this little plot twist!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews you guys! I was thrilled to read every one of them. Sorry for taking so long to reply to them things have been really hectic both professionally and personally so please forgive me.**

 **Massive thanks to MeiaAdey12, uhohspaghettiooos, JuliaLestrange, kaddiekat, HGranger89, slythrclw-shdwhntr-46, alice101angel, ANGSWIN, thewinnowingwind, kat11c, Nova5621, helikesitheymikey, Zadria Cerulean, Blue-10-Spades, FoxesRun, Shola2001, brookie88, mattsmom, Akela2Bears, ante-diem, Laysa L'espoir, RedKitsune2016, rayn, Smithback, EuphemiaJames, Katie Moon, amelianott, rabradley09, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, Ecwb and guests! Thanks so much.**

 _You are not wrong, who deem_

 _That my days have been a dream;_

 _Yet if hope has flown away_

 _In a night, or in a day,_

 _In a vision, or in none,_

 _Is it therefore the less gone?_

 _-Edgar Allen Poe_

 **Chapter 14**

Hermione meandered up the rocky shortcut from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts that Fred and George had begrudgingly taught her in her third year. Her plimsole school shoes guaranteed she felt every large stone or tree root that interrupted her path. She sighed as the cold night air taunted her irritated cheeks, which were red and blotchy from when she had used her rough school jumper to dry her tears. The half moon illuminated the sky dimly, still the darkness of the forest path did little to frighten her. It seemed the trials of the day had driven her past the primitive emotion of fear and straight towards emptiness. She doubted Voldemort himself would jostle her hollow composure in that moment. Her heavy breathing blended with the howls of the beasts that resided in the forest on either side of her until she could barely hear her pants of exhaustion as she hiked the steep incline.

"This is no path for a mortal child," a masculine voice summoned her from her musings. She didn't even flinch at the sudden intrusion, but none the less her wand was automatically in her hand and pointed to her right, into the dense foliage that obscured any light.

"Are you brave enough to face me?" Hermione called, trying her best to project a strong and confident voice. Her eyes shone fiercely in the moonlight as she lowered her body into a defensive position, daring whatever beast hovered in front of her to just try and make her day worse. Her hand for once held her wand steadily. She watched as the trees seemed to part to allow her opponent to approach her.

"But you are no child, are you?" He posed. Hermione's breath caught as she took in the majestic sight that befell her. As a child she had read the multitudes of fairy-tales that her parents had bought her, quickly dismissing them for fact and logic. Yet, the images of the centaurs she had seen had resided in her memories long after she had closed those books. Even as she stood on the dirt path in her filthy uniform and with tangled messy hair a feeling of reverence settled on her shoulders heavily.

"No," she breathed a response, too stunned to articulate further. The creature stalked closer until Hermione had to strain her head to meet his otherworldly dark brown eyes. The exquisitely carve bow that was strapped to his chest seemed to her almost an extension of the familiar beast.

"This is not the first time we have met," he stated plainly. One of his anterior hooves stamped the ground in front of him yet his expression remained unreadable. Hermione lowered her wand, knowing that she would never retaliate even if a fight was to begin. A foulness settled in her heart even at the thought. There was little outside of fact that Hermione ever put any stock into, divination being a primary example, but she had always respected Firenze. Looking into his eyes she could admit that there were things that she would never understand out there. After all, magic had been a daft notion before Professor McGonagall had knocked on her door.

"No," she repeated honestly, seeing little point in arguing. He lifted one of his colossal hands and pointed towards the sky above them before lifting his gaze towards the heavens.

"The stars are all a flutter," Firenze murmured darkly. "Twisting and turning, unsure of their placements," he continued with a twist of his lips that Hermione couldn't discern as a smile or a grimace. "It is quite the sight," he finished lowering his head once more.

"I wouldn't know," Hermione muttered back, not even raising her head to attempt to see what the centaur could. To her the stars would always be giant balls of burning gas miles and miles away and nothing more.

"No, you would not. You carve a path and think little of that which has already been preordained," he responded evenly, his dark voice reverberating through the empty night.

"I hold little faith in prophesying," she replied, not fully able to hide her bitterness. There was no mistaking the small smile that flickered across Firenze's face then.

"From my understanding of mortals, can it not be said that one so entrenched in what they deny is fighting lucidity?" Firenze murmured as he shifted his bow to rest on his back instead of his chest, a passive gesture.

"I was never entrenched in prophecy," Hermione responded shortly. While it was true she had witnessed the horrors of what self-fulfilling divination could do, she could honestly say that she had not been directly involved. What they had found that day in the Department of Mysteries was completely between Harry and Tom. She had no place in that dynamic, even if she had a firm place in the war.

"Even now, as you bend the stars to your will, you are still destined," Firenze answered simply. Once more he lifted his gaze towards the sky, his expression verging on curious. "What do they call you?" He questioned.

"Hermione," she answered, something stopping her from lying to the stately beast.

"I have never seen the stars rewritten Hermione, your actions are bold," he muttered. Slowly he extended his hand out in her direction. His hand was larger than her entire face, but she didn't flinch away, something kept her steady as she peered into his knowing eyes. Gently he tilted her chin upwards to examine her fully. "But you grow tired," he muttered mournfully. Hermione shrugged hating that tears were once again brimming in her eyes. His hands firm position under her chin prevented her from ducking her head and hiding her emotions. She had just lost her father that day and the paternal attitude he was exuding was rubbing salt in the open wounds of grief that crisscrossed her heart.

"Who wouldn't grow tired of this world?" She intoned darkly. His brown eyes softened at her defeated words.

"It is easy to grow weary when you carry the weight of the world," he answered, almost soothingly. "I see depth in your eyes, can you not see that some things are out of your control?" He asked, using his thumb to brush a salty tear from her cheek. The gentle action seemed quite counterintuitive to Hermione for such a large being, especially as she had seen up-close just how fierce centaurs could be. There was a reason Umbridge was terrified of them after all.

"I have been blessed with free will, and with it comes accountability," she answered bluntly, not moving from her position.

"Ah," Firenze muttered knowingly. "You believe fate to be the words of a weak man used to account for his failures," he said, a real smile growing on his face. "If there is one thing you can learn from the stars it is that there is a time to admit that no matter how hard you try some things will always end in the same way," he spoke with an edge of finality in his voice, as if this was an order instead of a statement. He tilted her head further until she was staring at the stars. It had been years since she had studied the night sky with anything more than just a fleeting glance.

"I am lost," she muttered more to herself.

"We are all lost Hermione, waiting for this life to guide us towards our purpose," Firenze explained. "But you must remember that sometimes that direction may be one you never expected to take, and that is not your fault," he finished. Hermione nodded silently, finally finding the strength to take a step back out of his grasp.

"I should get to the castle," she muttered, more than ready for the unsettling conversation to come to an end. Firenze nodded but lifted his hand in a halting gesture.

"You should know that Mars glows especially bright tonight, it is not only you that walks this strange path," he revealed in a serious tone. Somehow Hermione knew that relaying that snippet of information was the real reason Firenze had appeared to her, and at great personal risk too. She was not naïve enough to think that the other centaurs would be happy at his divulgence of divination to a mortal such as herself.

"I am aware that someone came with me," Hermione attempted to appease, thoughts of Severus flying through her tumultuous mind.

"I was not referring to your charge," Firenze answered, startling her. _Charge?_ She thought perplexedly. He stepped away from her before bowing his head in a way not too dissimilar to a Georgian gentleman. "This is goodbye Hermione. I will watch the stars you shape with keen interest, though I doubt we shall ever meet again," he bid in a resigned tone. With one last piercing gaze he turned and galloped powerfully back into the treeline, leaving more than enough food for thought in his wake.

…

Finally, Hermione reached the giant Oak door that led to the Great Hall. She heaved a massive sigh of relief, while the castle may not be the same as the one she had once called home it still lightened her heart to see the familiar sight. Even that recognizable smell of aged wood and burning peat soothed something chaotic in her mind.

"Miss Prince," a voice called the moment she had opened the door. Hermione had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, peace never lasted very long within the castle walls. Auror Longbottom stood just inside the door with Professor Dumbledore at his side. She should have known that the older man would have been notified the second she strayed past the wards of Hogwarts. The sight of him alone was enough for her breath to catch. He looked younger, of course, but the twinkle in his familiar eyes remained unchanged by the years he had lost. For a moment, Hermione felt like the eleven-year-old girl who had hysterically explained how she, Harry and Ron had tried to save the Philosopher's stone from Severus Snape's grasp.

"Professors," Hermione greeted hesitantly. She wondered how long Longbottom had been waiting in the Headmasters office for her to return. From his wrinkled uniform she wouldn't be surprised if the taciturn man had taken a nap on one of the comfortable chairs that Dumbledore always transfigured.

"I am so glad to see you are well," Dumbledore professed, interrupting whatever Longbottom had been about to growl in her direction. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind spending a few minutes in my office explaining your absence, while I know it is late I fear some matters would not fare well if they were left until the morning," he intoned, passing a surreptitious glance to the Auror at his side that was practically bursting at his seams to question her.

"Of course, Sir," she responded, left with little other choice. The walk to the office was a quiet one, with only comments from Albus pertaining to the sudden turn in the weather to interrupt the oppressive silence. When they finally reached the Gargoyle, Albus simply waved a hand and the staircase began to move. There was complete silence as they ascended the stairs and entered the ornate office. The room awakened so many memories for Hermione, most of which were so troubling that she immediately had to shake herself out of her revere.

"Well Miss Prince, it seems I am simply in need of an explanation for your abrupt disappearance," Dumbledore surmised as he gestured towards the chairs in front of his desk that Longbottom and she obediently sat down in. Not for the first time in her journey to the past she noticed how narrow the age gap between herself and the Auror truly was. It almost seemed as though he too was there to get advice from the venerable Headmaster instead of to contribute to any disciplinary action that might be taken. The lie she had been constructing since she left her muggle home town came to her naturally.

"Well Sir, I saw something that greatly unsettled me, and it took me a few hours to decide if this was a school I truly wished to attend," she answered carefully. She avoided eye contact with both men, still unsure how her Occlumency shields, that Snape had described so fleetingly to her, actually worked.

"So, you decide to illegally apparate without a licence?" Longbottom hissed from his seat, she could tell he was trying his best to reign in his temper. She shrugged non-committedly, knowing she would have to play the role of traumatised school girl very carefully.

"Mr Prewett did mention a ghostly presence?" Albus contributed.

"Which you skipped class to visit," Longbottom once again interrupted. Dumbledore shot him a look with a thinly veiled demand for silence.

"Please Sir, we both know it is no ghost that haunts that house," she responded, completely ignoring the hostile Defence Professor. Albus's eyes lost their twinkle momentarily, she could tell he had not predicted that she might have guessed what the Shack was actually used for.

"Oh, and what does haunt it?" Longbottom demanded, obviously completely ignorant of the ailment that plagued one of his top students. A silence passed where Hermione watched Dumbledore, trying her best to guess what her next move should be. Thankfully, the older man spared her the internal debate by raising his hand and turning to face the Auror.

"Frank, my boy, why don't you head to bed. I dare say I have monopolised too much of your time already," Dumbledore said gently, with a small incline of his head in the Professor's direction. Frank's face fell, and an expression of stricken betrayal covered his features momentarily.

"You can't be serious Sir?" Frank demanded, finding his voice after a moment's pause.

"Frank," Dumbledore responded simply with a narrowing of his eyes. Frank growled dramatically before standing so quickly his chair almost fell to the ground. He was half way out of the room before he turned once more to address Hermione.

"Don't worry girl, it won't be long now until I figure you out," he threatened darkly. Hermione felt her heart hammer in her chest, the words effecting her harshly. She already had so many enemies that it was hard to see a familiar face so angry with her. She wondered if Frank knew how close she would be with his son whether his attitude would change. She shook her head to rid herself of the redundant thought, it was pointless mulling over what peace releasing her secret would do. She knew she never would discuss the future she had lived with anyone in the past, even if it was a different future to the one they were directed towards then.

"Would you mind telling me what you meant by that statement Miss Prince?" Dumbledore requested the moment Frank had slammed the door behind him. Hermione paused for a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Well Sir, after I witnessed what I did in that Shack of yours I had to seriously reconsider my position here at this school," she said slowly, hating the necessary lie.

"What you witnessed Miss Prince?" Dumbledore questioned carefully. Hermione shook her head, he was going to make her spell it out for him.

"I am not one of your naïve students that has been locked away in a castle most of their lives," she began slowly, finally raising her gaze to meet his. It was such a relief to her to have confidence in her Occlumency Shields, even if she had little control over them. "I know the markings of a werewolf when I see them," she added as she smoothed the many wrinkles out of her school skirt to keep her hands occupied. She watched as Dumbledore's hand stilled at the mention of the beasts she had become so familiar with. It was an almost indiscernible change, if she hadn't known him so well in the future she might think him completely unaffected by her words.

"You speak like it is unusual _not_ to recognise werewolf markings?" Albus asked, his voice losing any manifestation of gentleness he had been maintaining at the beginning of their conversation. She could tell he was more than suspicious of her behaviour, part of her wished that she had never left the school grounds. She would have had a boring day of repetitive classes and would even still think that she had a confidant in Severus Snape instead of yet another enemy. Everything had changed the moment she had excepted to go on a walk with Fabian Prewett. She cursed the flirtatious red head in her mind. Hermione was well and truly alone with her secrets and it weighed on her heart painfully.

"Sir I am a Prince," she countered.

"You say that as if it is an excuse for any flaw, there is only so long you can hide behind a name," Albus murmured, he stood and relocated from behind his desk. His movement unsettled Hermione and she had to resist the urge to raise her wand or mount a defence.

"I'm not excusing any flaws, just an unusual education," she clarified as she flexed her hands to try and remove the tremors that had returned quite suddenly. Asking Severus for the spells to disguise them would be terribly uncomfortable now, especially considering she didn't even trust him enough to lift a wand in her direction not to mind wilfully allowing him to charm her body. She sighed, she'd have to begin researching in the library soon.

Dumbledore had crossed the room slowly while she was lost in thought. He headed towards a silver table that was covered with different types of crystal decanters, filled with all manor of substances. She watched as he lifted the delicate lid off one of the bottles and poured himself a glass of, what looked to her, to be muggle Whiskey.

"You'll have to excuse me, it has been a most stressful day," he intoned darkly. He brought the glass to his lips slowly and took a large gulp of the amber liquid. She wondered how often he had been pushed towards drink during her arduous six years of schooling. It was strange that she hadn't even noticed the silver table in her time had Hogwarts, she supposed that time had changed her perception. She looked at the Headmaster once more, truly taking him in. At one point in her life Dumbledore had almost acted like a deity, all knowing and secretive. His power had been unquestionable in her mind and her trust in him unwavering.

As Hermione watched him then, weary looking with a drink in his frail hands, she couldn't help but consider how _human_ he looked. It hurt that childish part of her brain that always thought he would be there to save her when the time came. He looked drained and was probably more than a little worried that Hermione had plans to blackmail him with the information she had uncovered. After all, it would be grounds for dismissal in the judgemental eyes of the Board of Governors if they knew he was educating a werewolf, especially in times that were so politically volatile.

"I suppose the only question that is left Miss Prince, is why you have returned to the castle at all?" Dumbledore asked as he meandered slowly back towards his desk, glass in hand.

"It's simple really," she muttered.

"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked in a dismissive tone.

"I don't know what you have going on here, but if all your other students are fine I doubt I'd be an exception," she answered with a weak smile. It seemed unusual that she should be in a conversation with the revered Headmaster in which they both had equal footing. The older man paused for a moment and sat his extravagant crystal glass on his desk.

"I met your father you know," he imparted with a scrutinizing gaze that shook Hermione to her core. "Back when the world was still recovering from Grindelwald's reign. Europe was impoverished, both muggle and wizard kind scavenging for the life's they once had. He was young then, still under his father's influence. It was a miracle that Eileen managed to grace these halls, but certainly not the first-born son. No, the first time I laid eyes on him was from across the room in a little pub outside Nice. He was scarcely more than one-and-twenty then, but he still seemed to capture the attention of everyone around him," he finished as he deliberately sought her gaze for the first time, his light blue eyes adrift in a memory she couldn't help but become enraptured by. She watched as he once again lifted the glass to his lips before taking a large gulp of the amber liquid. It seemed to pacify him and allow him to gather his words less stridently.

"He was clever too, I see him in you most clearly. Perhaps not in your looks, they were not what the Princes were famous for. I dare say your mother must have been a beauty to grant you such loveliness," he murmured with a small depreciating smile and a gentle gesture towards her face. Hermione didn't blush, not feeling at all like she had been given a compliment but more permitted a cold hard fact. "It does not surprise me at all that Prince found himself a pretty wife before his passing, for what he lacked in looks he made up for in dry wit and raw talent," Dumbledore stated. "And that my dear, is where you are most keenly modelled on him," he added, his smile growing.

"Sir?" Hermione pressed when a silence had settled over the awkward pair. Dumbledore shook his head and she watched as he tried to disentangle himself from a memory.

"But he was hot-headed and narrow sighted at times, not unlike the young Mr Snape you have grown so close to," he stated once he had returned to himself fully. He finished the glass with one last gulp before banishing it wandlessly back to the table to stand with the other expensive crystal. Hermione didn't know how she should react to the rather bullish declaration. She wasn't sure if a true daughter of Lord Prince would be offended by the Headmaster's rough description of what was supposed to be a most admired father.

"I'm not quite sure-," she attempted.

"My point, dear girl, is that you stand at the same crossroads your father did when I met him in that pub all those years ago," he interrupted gently. "Do be sure to use the imperturbable logic that brought you to the castle tonight when you pick the path that will shape your life," he concluded solemnly. "It is the only thing that separates you from him," he finished before he rose from his seat. Hermione followed suit, knowing the end to their conversation was nearing.

"Allow me to walk you to your common room. I dare say we have left poor Mr Prewett stew long enough," he declared with a large smile.

"Of course, Sir," Hermione agreed with a small incline of her head. She watched as the Headmaster held his office door open for her and considered the differences between the man in front of her and the man that had left his worn copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ specifically for her observations. He was certainly less secretive than his counterpart, but there was a weariness in his features that seemed almost counter intuitive. This Dumbledore hadn't fought Tom Riddle for the better part of twenty years, his apparent exhaustion was a mystery to her. She supposed that Grindelwald's defeat had been a gruelling ordeal for the powerful man, both physically and emotionally. The years between the event had not yet diminished his lassitude. They also hadn't, in Hermione's opinion, left much room for the development of wisdom _._ The man in front of her seemed more on edge, readier for an enemy to spring from behind every corner. Not the settled older Headmaster that was a hundred steps in front of everyone. This one was clawing to stay in the lead, making her wonder when she would be used as yet another anchor for him to further his position in the tumultuous years ahead.

…

Sirius perched on his chair beside the fire, the book he had been feigning interest in thrown haphazardly across his lap. He watched as a third-year boy made his way up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. He sighed and looked around the common room. The more deserted the room became the harder it was going to be to act like his presence was casual. As it was, only Lily, Fabian and Sirius were left, occuping the armchairs at almost strategically separated spots. Any small respite he had been given from his mistrust of the Prince heir had sharply diminished at the rumours of her exploration of the Shrieking Shack. While Fabian echoed his worry to his friends that some ghost had possessed the girl, Sirius knew better. If something really did scare her away from the shack, if she really had worked out the secrets within, his friends had more to worry about than a missing girl.

Initially Remus had wanted to wait around and talk to the fiery girl, try to reason with her if she planned to reveal her deductions. However, Sirius and James had convinced him to wait upstairs. If she did suspect a werewolf was living in the castle, then Remus would be playing right into her hands. No, Sirius had suggested a more casual approach. He would wait alone and try and steer her thoughts away from his dorm mates.

Fabian let out a sigh pulling Sirius from his thoughts. He watched as the red heads' eyes once again drifted towards the common room entrance. The boy really was worrying himself silly. Sirius supposed he had never seen Prince in action like he had. To Fabian, Prince was probably a sheltered Pureblood that had a knack for retaining a fact or two. Sirius knew better, he had duelled the girl after all. He knew that she could protect herself well enough. There was no way the girl had left the grounds through anyone's will but her own.

Lily shifted in her seat, drawing Sirius's eyes towards where she sat. Her Potion's textbook lay open on the table in front of her and ink stains covered her pale fingers. To anyone else it might have seemed like the redhead was scrambling to get some last-minute work done in the warmth of the common room. Sirius rolled his eyes, knowing that the assignment she was hurrying to complete wasn't due until late next week. Everyone in the Great Hall had seen Snape being escorted out by the Headmaster. It didn't take long for people to put his summoning and the Prince girl's disappearance together. He had no doubt Lily wanted to be the first in the know if Prince did reappear. Sirius didn't know which the redhead was hoping for, her to remain missing or to return.

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the three of them however that prevented Sirius from drawing attention to the redhead's presence. If he were to mention it then perhaps they would both ask why he was there, and he didn't need those questions. He sighed as he pondered what exactly he was going to say to Prince when she finally did return, he had no doubt she would after all. There would be no way he could simply pull the wool over her eyes. She was no ordinary student that would be satisfied by an inane lie. No, Sirius had no doubt that the heiress had seen her fair share of the darkness the world had to offer and survived it to boot.

A flash of the shaken girl on the bridge flew threw his mind. Prince had seemed so vulnerable then, so guilty all for a crime she did not commit. Sirius wondered if he could use that emotion to his advantage. Something in the pit of his stomach rejected the idea harshly. That brief respite they had had from their arguing had been peaceful and entirely different from what Sirius had ever imagined from the heiress. It seemed cruelly extortionate to manipulate those emotions, almost as if the girl on the bridge was a completely different person to the one that had disappeared that day. Sirius was ejected harshly from his thoughts by the opening of the common room entrance. His eyes immediately fell to his book, not wanting to appear over eager.

"Luna," Fabian exclaimed loudly in relief. Sirius watched from the corner of his eye as the boy quickly rose from his seat to greet her. "I was so worried," he confided, his whole body seemed to sag with the released tension.

"Oh Fabian, I'm sorry," the weariness in the girl's voice had Sirius raising his head fully to study her. What was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a full-on gawk as Sirius took in her appearance. Gone was the straight unruffled uniform replaced by a grass stained shirt, wrinkled skirt and a jumper trailing on her ground behind her. Her hair was everywhere, and her face was flushed crimson with her eyes rimmed red from what Sirius supposed was due to crying. Despite it all she looked a vision of passion and force, even in her exhaustion, reminding Sirius of the first time he had met her when she had defended the little muggle girl from their questions.

"Where did you go?" Fabian questioned as he reached out and took her jumper in his arms, as if even that weight was too much for her to bear. The girl hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. She locked eyes with Sirius's for a moment too long to be considered a coincidence and he felt his blood run cold. _What did she know?_

"I don't rightly know, something in that house must have muddled my head," she answered with a watery smile. Sirius didn't believe it for a second, but Fabian seemed to eat up her excuses.

"I'm so sorry Luna, I tried to rush in after you but-," Fabian began but she waved her hands dismissively.

"Don't worry about it, I was just being stupid," she summarised with a self-depreciating smile that made her look even more like an innocent girl that found herself in a nasty situation. Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the rubbish she was producing. No longer able to maintain his cool he stood suddenly and marched over to the pair, all too aware of the redheaded audience that seemed to follow his every move.

"Prince," he greeted frostily. "Can we talk?" He ordered more than asked. For a moment she looked like a deer caught in a bright Lumos at his request, he could tell she had expected him to ignore her like he usually did. Fabian's eyes narrowed at his cold tone.

"I think Luna has had enough excitement for one day, eh Black?" Fabian warned, his arm reaching around to rest at the small of Prince's back. For some reason that Sirius couldn't understand the gesture grated his nerves enormously.

"Oh, I don't know Prewett, what's life without a little excitement?" Sirius countered, his tone never losing its aloofness. Reaching out in a spontaneous motion he wrapped his arm around Prince's dainty wrist and pulled her to his side. She seemed too startled to say or do anything to contradict him. For a moment Sirius faltered, this did not seem even remotely like the girl that had cursed him on the train. She seemed lost and to Sirius's bewilderment a little broken too.

"Black," Fabian hissed as he opened his mouth to launch into a tirade. Sirius smirked knowing that the boy was too much of a gentleman to drag her back to his side. Taking advantage of his browbeaten Pureblood manors, Sirius all but pushed Prince towards the exit of the common room. Just to rub salt in the wound he reached out and grabbed her jumper from his arms.

"It might get chilly," he explained with a smirk, if possible Fabian's face grew even redder at his cheek. Prince still hadn't managed to form so much as a word to halt the proceedings and was easily guided towards the exit once more.

"It's past curfew," Fabian called after them authoritatively. Sirius looked back one last time at the angry redhead.

"Oh, you're going to get her in trouble again today? Haven't you done enough," Sirius responded in a faux gentle manor, his eyes flashing wickedly.

He heard the huff of annoyance even through the portal door.

"Sirius," Prince hissed when she finally regained her voice. "What is going on?" She questioned as she eyed him irately. He could tell she had not appreciated being manhandled, not that anyone much appreciated it.

"We need to talk Prince," Sirius stated sombrely, dropping the irritating smile he had used to get under Fabian's skin. He gestured down the corridor with a wave of his hand, insistence painted in his eyes. She studied him for a moment before sighing loudly and stalking away from him, clearly put out by yet another interruption to her day. Sirius caught up easily and remained silent at her side, pointing in what ever direction he wanted them to take until finally they reached an empty classroom half way up the astronomy tower.

Prince immediately pulled herself up on one of the high tables. She was noticeably too tired to stand much longer. She watched silently as he erected a few privacy wards around them. She didn't even seem surprised when he began casting, clearly, she was no stranger to warding. He would not have been surprised if she could far surpass him in terms of the casting.

"What do you want?" She finally asked when he leaned against a table in front of her.

"What happened today?" He asked, he was done being subtle with the mysterious girl. Her eyebrows raised slightly at the questions, Sirius watched as realisation dawned in her knowledgeable brown eyes. Once again Sirius wished he knew what she was thinking, whether she had figured out his biggest secret and was just toying with him until she revealed it to everyone. She lowered her head, breaking their eye contact.

"Like I said, it's all a bit hazy," Prince stated, moving to rest her head in her hands which were shaking jerkily. It seemed odd to Sirius who had thought the castle was warm that night.

"Hazy?" He pushed relentlessly. He vowed silently that he would not leave the room without an answer. He could never sleep with Remus fretting about the dormitories anyway. A sudden wave of anger passed through the dark-haired boy. _What right had she to unsettle his friend so badly? Why couldn't she just mind her own business like a good little emptyheaded Pureblood heiress?_

"Well?" He spat when she still hadn't responded. To his surprise Prince's head snapped out of her hands and she stood abruptly from the table. She withdrew her wand and started to deconstruct his locking wards swiftly, so effortlessly that her work reminded Sirius of a hot knife through butter. There was no doubt about it, Luna Prince was no ordinary witch.

"Oi," Sirius hollered, maddened by her obvious desire to leave the conversation. He reached out to still her rapidly moving wand arm but was brusquely shaken off.

"Shove off Sirius, I have neither the energy or the patience to have this conversation today," she stated in an irritated tone. Her face was scrunched up in fury and she was taking deep breaths to calm herself down.

"That's too bad 'cause we're going to have it whether you like it or not," he argued bitterly as he stepped in front of her to distract from her spell casting. She didn't look him in the eye, a measure a part of him recognised she was taking to keep her temper under control. For some reason that irritated him even further.

" _Jesus Christ_ Sirius you wouldn't be able to stop me from leaving this room even if I was blind folded and wandless," she hissed vehemently. It fascinated him that tears of frustration were brimming at the edge of her eyes. It seemed oddly satisfying to him that he had merited such a strong reaction from the unshakable girl who only let her guard down when she wanted to.

"Jesus Christ? Some Pureblood you are anyway," Sirius commented with a wicked smile that seemed to breathe contempt. Prince spun around and took a step away from him before releasing a large growl in the direction of the Heavens.

"For once in your life Sirius could you just do what your told and walk away?" She demanded with her back turned.

"You know so little about my life Prince-," he attempted, affronted by her exasperated tone.

"I reckon I know all I need to," she interrupted with an exaggerated scoff. She threw her arms up in the air, vexed, before placing them on top of her curly hair that was tossed messily. The sound of her dismissal of everything he had to worked so hard for grated on his already fraying nerves. He stalked forward before grabbing one of her raised arms and dragging it down sharply. She was forced to twirl swiftly, almost losing her balance, only Sirius snaking his other arm onto her hip to steady her prevented her from falling.

"You think you know everything about everyone witch, but you're blind lass," Sirius hissed. "Blinded by that snake you call a cousin and frenzied by the bloodlust that seems to permeate the air near any of them," he continued bitterly. To his surprise Prince threw her head back, not even bothering to extract herself from his grip, and released a loud bark of a laugh. It was cold and filled the room with the unspoken tension of the day.

"You think I'm blind?" She questioned rhetorically through her unnerving reaction. "I'm the only one in this whole castle that sees this world for what it really is," she muttered absently. Sirius snarled at what seemed like her thousand cryptic answer of the day.

"Is that what you saw today then? The world for what it really is?" He demanded haughtily. He tightened his grip on her arm and waist when he watched pain flash across the heiress's features. It was clear he had struck a chord, a tear streaked down the side of her face but suddenly Sirius didn't feel any joy in the reaction. She inhaled sharply, her breathing ragged from holding back sobs.

"TELL ME," he ordered, hoping his loud voice would unsettle her enough to reveal the secrets she was harbouring so judiciously, he should have known it would have the opposite effect. Finally, she looked up and met his hard stare defiantly.

"Why not just obliviate me?" She requested almost desperately. "Take this day away so I can stop thinking about it over," here she used her free hand to push at his chest. "And over," she pushed again, this time harder, "And over and over in my head," by the time she had finished she was screeching and striking his chest with all her might.

"Prince," Sirius readjusted carefully, suddenly all too aware that they were no longer discussing Remus or the Shrieking Shack. The hits were weak, for as talented as she was magically she was still just a short scrawny girl.

"No, go on," She muttered hysterically through the tears that were now pouring down her cheeks. "Do it," she commanded. "I dare you," she encouraged manically. Pushing against his grip which had slackened at her words she reached into his pocket and pressed his wand into his hand. "Take this day away," she spat angrily. She lifted his hand up until the wand pressed into her forehead. "I don't want to know," she murmured, her brown eyes boring into his.

"I-," he began but paused, completely out of his element.

"What's the matter?" She questioned sarcastically. "You're so desperate to know what I do? Why not even the playing field, eh?" She cried, her grip tightened on his hand and she pressed his wand harder into her temple. Sirius was sure it must have hurt but he was too shocked by her outburst to do anything about it. He didn't even register he was moving until he saw his free hand come to rest on her cheek. Absently his thump brushed away the flood of tears that was trailing steadily down towards her chin. The tender action seemed to shock her into silence.

"Sometimes we all want to forget, even when we can't," he stated hesitantly when he finally found his voice. "Obliviating won't fix anything," he affirmed resolutely. Her face scrunched up and she took in a long-ragged breath.

"I can't anymore, I can't do this anymore. I want to go home," she lamented sorrowfully and even though Sirius knew little of her past or what was troubling her in that moment, something in her words resonated strongly with him. He exhaled loudly before dragging her into his arms and squeezing her tightly. She didn't fight the pull, instead she settled into the robes covering his chest and continued to weep mournfully. Sirius stared ahead at the blank black board that occupied the classroom wall in front of him trying his best not to think too much about the situation he found himself in. One thing was certain, he hadn't expected this turn in the conversation.

….

Lily watched from the corner of her eye as Luna Prince wandered inattentively into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The enigma of a girl had not returned to the dorms until the early hours of the morning and had not so much as spoken a word to any of the girls. They hadn't pushed her, having heard tales of the trauma she had suffered at the hands of nasty ghosts out by the Shrieking Shack. Lily could not help but wish that they had been a little more forceful, she herself knew she could never question the girl too persistently after the events of the summer so she was forced to rely on second hand information.

Lily watched as Prince hesitated noticeably before taking her seat beside Severus, who watched her as if she were a precious gem that could fracture at any moment and become worthless. The redhead looked around the classroom to note that Prince had the attention of many of her fellow classmates and even Auror Longbottom, who was not even bothering to hide his penetrating glare directed at her. Lily rolled her eyes, annoyed that once again nobody was the least bit suspicious of the girl's odd behaviour. When she had heard of Auror Moody's visit through the Hogwarts rumour mill she had been more than tempted to bring the conversation she had overheard to the attention of the Headmaster, but Sirius's words played over and over in her head. Was she obsessing over her old friend and how quickly he had replaced her in his life?

"Alright class, we'll be practising simple disarming spells today," Auror Longbottom began from the front of the classroom. When the class seemed to universally release a sigh of disappointment he rolled his eyes and continued. "You have to perfect the basics before you can move on to full on duelling and I'm still not happy with the practical experience that your last Professor described in his leaving notes," he explained in a droll tone that hinted he also wasn't happy with the boring class material. "Pair up," he commanded before waving his wand and sending the desks and the chairs towards the sides of the room. Those who were still sitting had to scramble to escape their already moving chairs. Clearly Longbottom was not in a good mood.

Lily watched as Prince reluctantly approached where Severus was waiting expectantly for them to begin. To her surprise Sirius approached her while Alice began to chat to Remus about the assignment.

"Wanna pair up?" Sirius asked with a nod at the redhead, who nodded hesitantly. Sirius usually avoided her if possible which made his offer decidedly suspicious. She watched as his gaze almost involuntarily shifted to examine Prince from across the room. Lily barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes, she had subconsciously picked the position in the room with the best view of her old friend and the Pureblood heiress.

"Please tell me you are _not_ interested in her?" Lily hissed passionately when everyone was out of earshot besides Black. She watched as Sirius forced himself to study her words, still half-distracted trying to covertly watch Prince, before her meaning finally registered. He shook himself from his daze and glared at Lily.

"No," he denied vehemently, his grey eyes narrowing in her direction. She simply raised her eyebrow and sent him an incredulous glance. He shook his head but none the less continued. "I'm just making sure Snape isn't trying anything, the pair of them are so odd," he finished, dropping his gaze to look at his wand.

"Oh, so now you're suspicious?" Lily murmured disbelievingly. "I've been telling you for weeks there's something off about her," she added glibly. He rolled his eyes at the indignation that seemed to fill her words. He sent her a weak _Expelliarmus_ which she blocked easily just to give the appearance that they were practising. They both knew the simple disarming spell perfectly.

"Something _off_ about her? From what we heard she's on the light side of all of this and he's the one with the _dark_ connections," Sirius rebutted tensely, referencing the conversation they had overheard in the depths of the Slytherin dungeons.

"So, you do like her?" Lily accused once more.

"Just stating the facts," he defended fiercely. They both watched as Snape closed the distance between himself and the Prince girl. They had been practising about as enthusiastically as Lily and Sirius had before they had paused. Sirius watched as Snape reached out to grip her arm before she flinched away. Sirius let out a low whistle.

"Trouble in paradise," he muttered more to himself. To his surprise Snape did not seem at all perturbed by the action instead he patiently waited and murmured something into her ear, his mouth hidden by her waves of unruly hair which she had unusually worn down that day. A move that left her looking less like the Pureblood heiress she was trying to imitate. Sirius was beginning to think she was putting less and less effort into the disguise on purpose. To his surprise Prince seemed to force herself to calm at his words, she nodded her head almost imperceptibly towards the Slytherin and he once again reached for her arm. This time she did not flinch away instead she embraced his tutelage and allowed him to fix her duelling stance. He even used his foot to edge her leg forward.

"Strange isn't it?" Lily murmured, examining Sirius as he watched the odd pairing. For once Sirius didn't retort anything, instead he turned his gaze to meet the redheads. "How different he is with her," she expanded, appearing almost grateful to have someone to discuss the unusual behaviour with. Sirius shook himself before casting another spell in her direction and vowing to keep his eyes off the Prince girl that had been monopolising his thoughts since he had silently walked her back to the common room last night. He knew he should stay away, leave the mystery alone, but Merlin knew he could never simply let things be. Not when his gut was screeching at him to unravel every secret Prince thought she held so tightly to her chest.

….

"Just breathe, I promised I'd show you how to duel properly," Snape murmured into her ear before reaching out and gripping Hermione's arm to position it correctly. She felt the skin on her arm break out into goose-bumps at his cold touch. She hadn't so much as locked eyes with her old Potion's Professor since she entered the classroom. Her fury at his unforgivable actions still freshly brewing at the front of her mind. She felt him move his foot to push hers forward until she was positioned in what she assumed was an optimised duelling stance.

"This way if you're being attacked from both sides you can turn without losing balance," he explained as he used his big hand to guide her body to show how easy the turn was. His back was pressed against her side, making concentrating hard. She was sure he had never taught Defence to her like this when she had been in school. Then again, she was pretty sure Dumbledore had requested that he teach very little practical knowledge when he was the Defence Professor. Albus had never intended for them to fight, educating both sides would have been pointless, and she assumed in his opinion probably have led to more destruction.

"You've always tended to exaggerate your wand movements as well, ever since you were a child. Don't waste how hard you've worked to cast silently by letting the opponent know what your casting with textbook movements," he lectured, and for a moment she was back in Potions with him breathing over her shoulder. If it wasn't for the remaining resentment she felt for the man and the other students in the classroom that had been keeping an inquisitive eye on her since she had entered the room she might have found the experience comforting. He reached down to her wand hand and imitated her casting of the simple disarming spell repeatedly. Each time with less theatrical movements until she was barely moving her wand.

"You never saw me duel when I was a child," Hermione muttered, the first full sentence she had spoken to the Slytherin that day. She had not even been aware she had stopped being a child in his eyes, but then again, she supposed it was easy to age in a persons' eyes when they held all the cards to your survival. Hermione shook away the thought, not ready to deal with the implications of the fact that she was the only person in the world besides Tom Riddle that knew the locations of the dreaded Horcruxes. Even the thought of the cursed object sent a horrible shudder through her body. The year on the run with the locket around her neck had been the worst of her life, a part of her still thought that recovery from sharing such close quarters with that darkness was impossible.

"I caught the end of your fight with Dolohov at the Ministry," he admitted quietly as he withdrew from her so that she could practice by herself. She was shocked by his words, most of the battle at the Department of Mysteries was just that; a mystery. She had been knocked out so early it was all a hazy recollection, her mind having used everyone else's retelling to fill in the gaps. Absentmindedly she massaged the long scars that covered the right side of her chest where the dreadful curse had met its mark.

"You were there then? That night?" She pursued, interested by his honesty. Although not naïve enough to think it was not merely another manipulation on his part to get her to trust him, she could not pass up the opportunity to find as much out from the man as she could. He seemed content to whisper over the loud sounds of the other students hollering disarming spells across the room, confident they wouldn't be overheard.

"Where else would I have been?" He questioned, as if her query had been silly. "You don't honestly think that anyone else from the order would have been able to reverse that curse before it spread to your heart. Not everyone out there is so eager to gain knowledge for knowledge's sake like us, Dolohov always did have eclectic tastes," Snape stated with a raised eyebrow. For some reason his referral to an 'us' was more startling to her than his roundabout admission that it had been him that had saved her life. She didn't thank him, knowing he hadn't told her for any form of acknowledgement, it was just a fact and if there was anything that Severus Snape but stock in it was fact.

"If only I had known that night what we were flying into," Hermione muttered under her breath. Her words, that she had hardly considered before speaking, seemed to reverberate with Severus who halted his mild corrections of her stance.

"Would you have changed it all? If you could somehow go back to that night?" He asked, something in his expression begging her to answer honestly. She looked away knowing exactly what he was hinting at. Thankfully she was saved from answering by the approach of Auror Longbottom. Quickly she cast an _Expelliarmus_ in Snape's direction which he blocked easily.

"Prince, Snape," he greeted tersely. "Perhaps if you spent more time practicing instead of chatting you might actually extract something from this class," he continued sharply. It took every fibre of Hermione's being not to roll her eyes at the Auror's irritating attitude. After her break through yesterday, she felt little point in trying to stay on the man's good side. To her surprise he withdrew a letter from his blue robes and thrust it in her direction. She glanced at the Ministry official seal before sighing and taking it from out of his grip. From the corner of her eyes she watched as Snape had to resist the urge to yank the letter out of her hands and peruse it first.

"It's a summons from the Defence Department for an official questioning. It seems those photos of you are enough to merit a little investigation," Longbottom explained lowly, apparently he too surprisingly wasn't thrilled about the idea and didn't want the other students to know. "As a gesture of good faith, due to the incident with your previous questioning Auror Moody has agreed to host the interview in front of Dumbledore in his office," Longbottom explained resignedly.

"Of course he is," Hermione scoffed sarcastically. Longbottom eyed her heatedly.

"It took a lot of negotiating on Dumbledore's part to get this much, you'd be going into the Department for the day otherwise. Don't be ungrateful," he reprimanded sharply. For her part Hermione dropped the incredulous look from her face and nodded her head, dropping her eyes to the floor.

"Tonight at 9," Longbottom ordered suddenly.

"But that's no time at all," Snape hissed reaching out and snapping the letter from her hands. Longbottom shifted his gaze to study the incensed student he had barely acknowledged before that day.

"I don't see why she'd need time to prepare for a few questions _boy_ ," he answered but there was a smirk on his lips that showed just how happy he was to have unsettled the pair. He turned and stalked away. Hermione was shocked when Snape lifted his wand and made to curse him as he moved away. Quickly she reached out and pushed down his wand before shaking her head furiously. Her grip seemed to shake him from whatever daze the Auror's brusque words and conniving attitude had put him under. Hermione looked around the room to see if anyone else had noticed Severus's unusual attitude.

Just when she thought she was safe her gaze locked with a pair of steely grey eyes that seemed to be examining her very carefully with little regard for if she noticed or not. She stopped breathing for a moment, her breakdown in front of Sirius last night had been a mistake. There was no doubt that he would be watching her every move from now on.

…..

"So, you're saying she just freaked out and thought a ghost possessed her?" Remus questioned disbelievingly. The four Marauders were sat in an alcove on the seventh floor in a corridor they all were pretty sure nobody bothered to remember even existed.

"Fear can do weird things to a person," Sirius confirmed, hating misleading his best friend. Technically he didn't even know if Prince had worked out that there was a werewolf in the school, he had just assumed she had put the pieces together. Remus exhaled a massive sigh at his words that seemed to drag all the tension out of his body.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Remus praised his luck, relieved that his position at Hogwarts was once again secure.

"I told you it was nothing to worry about Moony, just some daft girl," James reassured with a grin. Peter clasped the weary boy on the shoulder and related similarly relieved sentiments.

"And how did she take to you questioning her? Should I expect to find you attacked again?" Remus asked, a trace of humour that had been absent all day returning to his tone. Sirius idiotically hesitated just long enough for the boys to realise that there was something interesting about his encounter with the girl.

"Oh, shit Padfoot you didn't get off with a _Prince_ did you?" Peter questioned disgustedly, though there was a little amusement poorly hidden in his eyes. They were all well used to their friend's flirtatious antics at that stage, he had been making his way steadily through the female population of Hogwarts for the last few years. Though when Peter considered it momentarily, he realised that he hadn't heard of any of his friend's conquest since well before Yule break.

"No," Sirius muttered, a smidge more forcefully then he should have making the other boys break out in peals of laughter at his expense. "Honestly Lads I didn't, I just think there's something not quite right about the lass is all," he intoned darkly, dampening the happy atmosphere that was beginning to form.

"What d'you mean Pads?" James questioned. "She's a home-schooled Pureblood from, what I've heard, is a pretty homicidal family, there's plenty of room for a bit of peculiarity," he reasoned with a teasing smile. When Sirius's expression did not brighten the others began to realise that perhaps this matter wasn't as trivial as they had first assumed. Sirius was rarely grave about anything, it wasn't in his nature, or at least it wasn't in the persona he always tried to project.

"I just think there's something odd about her that I can't put my finger on," Sirius abated reluctantly, knowing that if he insisted the others would begin to ask for details that he was not yet ready to give.

"You think all Pureblood's are weird," Peter elucidated with a comforting grin. "I wouldn't put too much thought into it," he continued.

"Right," Sirius agreed with a small smile, having no intention of following Peter's advice, for as well meaning as he was Peter could never see the bigger picture. Sirius felt a little more at ease however, knowing that he had at least alerted his friends to the suspicions he held for the deceptively quiet brunette. Joke as they might they all knew that his opinions on wizardry politics were nothing to scoff at. He was the only one amongst them that knew what was really happening outside of the walls of the castle and they all knew it. Some darkness was impossible not to feel, even if they didn't understand it. If he said that she was dangerous they would be careful, simple as that. Now all he needed to know was what he was warning against.

…

Hermione hurried down the corridors towards the Headmaster's office. It had not been more than a day since she had last been summoned towards the ornate office and the abruptness of the appointment had left her reeling. After class she had immediately fled to her dorms, completely avoiding Severus who she knew would want to discuss what she was going to reveal in her interview. If she was being honest with herself, she could admit that she felt like it was none of the older man's business how she decided to get through the ordeal. He had left her at a disadvantage from the moment she had arrived in the past by not revealing the details of her death and she couldn't help but consider the implications of his decisions. It could very well be that Detective Barrows would have lived if she had known that changing the past was a possibility.

Auror Longbottom was waiting at the bottom of the staircase when she arrived at the entrance to the office. He mumbled the password, barely acknowledging her presence with little more than the slightest incline of his head. Her unexplained disappearance had obviously been the breaking point for the young man. She had briefly thought that he had been growing to distance her from the sins that her alleged father had committed but all that hope was gone. She was a Prince in his eyes and she didn't see that changing any time in the foreseeable future. They ascended the stairs in absolute silence before Longbottom rapped his knuckles on the thick door.

"Come in," Dumbledore summoned from inside. Longbottom entered the room first, holding the door open for her. She took a deep breath before following him. She didn't look away when she noticed both Moody and Albus sat behind the expanded desk. Once again, she remembered an older wiser Moody smirking in her direction and telling her that appearing authoritative was sometimes enough to get information from a convict. Sitting behind the desk and not rising when she entered was nothing more than a power play.

"Ah, my dear, so good to see you again. I hope this wasn't too inconvenient for you," Albus greeted pleasantly. Moody snorted derisively at the words, obviously not afraid to show just how little the older mans seniority and reputation affected him.

"It was no trouble Sir, you can understand however that I was a little reticent in my attendance after the events of my previous inquisition," Hermione stated with an empty smile, choosing her words carefully.

"Of course, I've been meaning to apologise on behalf of everyone involved for that crude experience," Dumbledore responded with a twinkle in his light blue eyes. Once again Moody released a scathing sound at the Headmasters' words. The aged Auror lifted his head just long enough for both his normal and magical eye to glare at the arm which had been savagely carved by Bellatrix Lestrange. Earlier she had charmed against his penetrating sight to prevent him from seeing the disgusting word.

"Take a seat Prince," Longbottom commanded from behind her. She nodded once before moving towards the comfortable chair she presumed that Dumbledore had conjured. The young Auror remained standing behind her, leaning both his hands on the back of her chair, a position she knew was designed to unsettle her.

"Well, why don't we begin with the reasons you are here Miss Prince," Dumbledore asked, gesturing for Auror Moody to take control of the interview.

"Actually Sir, I was wondering if I might have a moment to discuss the file that Auror Moody showed to me during our last interview," she began hesitantly. At the mention of his name the Auror lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the girl.

"What is it girl?" He asked tersely, his magical eye twirling around in his scull as they spoke.

"Well it's just I was a little shocked by the nature of the last interview that I don't think I was as honest as I should have been. You see I did know Detective Barrows, quite well actually…," she began and smiled inwardly when she noticed she had the rapt attention of everyone in the room.

 **So really really sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. Over the last few weeks the project I've been working on for years was quite violently TORN apart by some Professors I had to present in front of, so I've been downing my sorrows and generally feeling quite mopey. I didn't want this chapter to reflect the anxiety and self-centred pouting I've been submerged in because this story is about Hermione's growth, so I took a little break from writing it. I hope you liked this update and I'd really LOVE to hear what you thought. So please please please please review you brilliant people.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Massive thanks for all those beautiful reviews, as a present here is the next chapter, posted a little earlier than usual :)**

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 **Chapter 15**

 _The garlands wither on your brow,_ _  
Then boast no more your mighty deeds!  
Upon Death's purple altar now  
See where the victor-victim bleeds.  
Your heads must come  
To the cold tomb:  
Only the actions of the just  
Smell sweet and blossom in their dust_.

 _-James Shirley_

"Quite well?" Hermione heard Frank question from behind her. The tension in his voice set her on edge, even more so when Moody cast a suspicious glance in the young Aurors direction. She tucked the slightly mistrustful behaviour away in her brain to ponder later. Right then she had to focus on getting through the interview.

"I owed Detective Barrows a great deal," she began hesitantly. She watched as Moody scoffed silently at her words, obviously content in his assumption of their definite disingenuity. She continued hastily before he interrupted the story she had been rehearsing since she left her Defence class earlier that day. "He was a good man, I lose nothing with that admission," she stated clearly, her brown eyes shutting momentarily to regain control of the strong emotions that plagued her at the thought of the man's horrid death. Moody seemed slightly taken aback by her earnest words, not that anyone who was not previously acquainted with the man would be able to notice. A slight elevation of one eye-brow along with a twitch of his mangled nose were his only give-aways.

"I'm not investigating his character. I'm sat here because the man's face was blown to pieces," Moody answered harshly, his one human eye narrowing angrily. Hermione shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned by his punitive words.

"It was my understanding Auror Moody, that most Detective work does not necessarily start with the crime, but more the motive," she responded sharply, her confident Pureblood persona only wavering slightly. She battled the almost irresistible urge to fidget by clinging to the arms of her transfigured chair.

"And what do you know of Detective work?" Frank hissed severely from his domineering position directly behind her, stealing the words right out of the aged Auror's mouth. Hermione hesitated for a moment, she had spent most of her life consumed by mysteries, most of the time racing against the clock to save the day with a miraculous solution. There was no way she could explain that to anyone in the room.

"Gentleman, I believe we are veering rather unfortunately off topic," Dumbledore thankfully interrupted. If the glares that the two law men sent the Headmaster for disturbing could have killed, Tom Riddle would have been a very happy man. "Why don't you continue your story Miss Prince, perhaps this time everyone in the room will be able to refrain from questioning you until the end?" He posed with a pleasant smile that only a fool would think did not contain an authoritative edge. Hermione watched as the men grew silent at his request, it was obvious they were here by the Headmaster's acquiescence alone and were not imprudent enough to test his patience.

"My journey from France was not as… agreeable as you might assume given the weight of my surname," Hermione began pausing for a moment to allow the two Aurors to share an incredulous glance that bordered on amused. Undoubtedly, they both assumed her to be naïve of anything truly _disagreeable_ in comparison to their many dangerous missions. Nevertheless, they remained silent, which she was beyond grateful for. "I travelled under a pseudonym, not wanting the attention a potential heiress would grant me. I was waylaid by fanatics somewhere in the English countryside," she declared then stopped altogether to wait for the consequences such a strong assertion would bring.

"Waylaid?" Moody questioned disbelievingly. She felt Frank's whole-body tense even through the back of the chair that separated them. She shifted in shock when she felt him drop a hand heavily on her shoulder. It was not intended to be a comforting gesture, she was sure the man was just reassuring himself that she would not be able to flee the conversation. She nodded slowly in response to the Auror's question.

"But surely when you dropped the name you were allowed to leave quite comfortably," Moody stated bitterly. Hermione felt rage boil up inside of her, if this was truly how the Auror treated victims of violent attacks she was disgusted. Surely for interviews they would have an Auror more personable to ease the tension, not some biased twenty something year old hot head gripping her shoulder.

"I never told them my name," Hermione continued, attempting to reign in her temper that seemed determined to ruin her interview. The occupants of the room all seemed surprised at her words.

"Any particular reasoning behind that action Miss Prince?" Dumbledore asked with a solemn nod in her direction. He was obviously more adept with dealing with emotional witches. Hermione held her breath, this was it. This was what she had been waiting for from the moment she had received the summons.

"As you took the time to mention earlier Professor, I am not my father," she stated clearly, staring directly at the Headmaster as she spoke. He was the real reason she was working so hard to spin her tale of woe, the Auror Department off her back would just be a wonderful secondary benefit. "I know exactly what, or more precisely who, haunts these isles Professor and admitting my identity would have granted me an immediate audience with them," she explained hesitantly. The twinkle in Albus's eyes dwindled almost completely at her words, still she did not look away. "My aim in this life is to stay as anonymous as possible in the watchful eyes of certain individuals. If that means enduring somethings I'd rather not then so be it," she finished, her hands practically clawing the arms of the chair.

"Speak clearly girl," Moody snapped, apparently disliking how Dumbledore had taken over his interview.

"Oh please, everyone in this room knows exactly what I'm talking about," Hemione snapped, not liking at all how quickly her usually expansive patience was fraying. She tore her eyes from the Headmaster to glare at the older Auror.

"You expect us to believe that the Heir of the Prince household was waylaid by fanatics and she suffered instead of using her name to meet a man that her late father was actually quite chummy with," Frank hissed from behind her, his hand squeezing her shoulder so hard she was sure it would bruise come morning. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his crude synopsis of her story, barely managing to curb the flinch that threatened her at the mention of her father's acquaintance with Tom Riddle. "All so you could what? Join the light side once you reached Hogwarts?" He scoffed heatedly. Hermione shook her head immediately.

"I have no wish to join the light side. This war will be messy, and my only wish is to remain out of it," she reaffirmed determinedly.

"War?" Albus questioned. Once more her eyes were drawn to his as she tried to convince herself not to feel guilty for the vague reference to the future. There was nothing surprising in her assessment of the disastrous political climate that dominated Britain in the seventies. However, the poorly guised keen interest that marred the Headmaster's expression was enough for her to almost regret her words.

"I'm no fool Sir, and neither was my father. He was wise enough to know a fight was coming and I'm wise enough to stay out of it," she answered shortly, wanting the conversation to return to the death of Detective Barrows as soon as possible. That did not seem likely in the foreseeable future however, the men in front of her were much too interested in the riddles she had used to describe the Dark Lord.

"You managed to fight off these wizards?" Dumbledore questioned, perhaps seeing her displeasure and worried she might cease discussions altogether. Hermione nodded sharply once, in reality she had just laid there as Bellatrix and Greyback tortured her. If Ron and Harry had not interrupted when they did there was no doubt in her mind that her mental faculties would merit a one-way trip to Mungo's Long-Term Ward. She had to force her body not to shudder at the thought.

"It wasn't easy, I had to wait until there was just one of them and even then, when I managed to apparate I was so tired I couldn't think clearly and ended up relying on the kindness of muggles for healing and shelter," she described shakily. "Detective Barrows found me in a muggle hospital and in a roundabout way reunited me with my father's sisters family," she finished, dropping her eyes to her lap. The thoughts of Harry and Ron were hard to shake, she knew that she needed to appear absolutely transparent to the men in front of her, they would undoubtably be distracted by her grief were she to break down.

"You honestly expect me to believe that?" Moody demanded loudly. Throwing down a quill he had been using to take notes roughly on the table.

"Auror Moody," Dumbledore warned sharply. Moody stood suddenly at the sound of the reprimand, apparently tired of abiding by the controlling man's orders. He stalked in front of the desk to stand imposingly in front of Hermione, forcing Dumbledore to stand too.

"No more of this nonsense, the girl won't even show me her arm," the older Auror hissed. She felt Frank's grip on her shoulder grow even tighter at the man's words, especially when Moody leaned down to glare directly into her eyes.

"May I remind you that this interview was arranged purely through courtesy and that Miss Prince is under no obligation to undergo a bodily search," Dumbledore commanded, his voice seeming to project throughout the room, hinting at the wizard's power. Hermione saw a flash of the Headmaster's wand which he had withdrawn slightly from the holster on his wrist that she had not even known existed. Albus clearly did not trust that Moody was above grabbing and shaking the information out of her. The tense relationship between the Headmaster and his trusted ally, Alastor Moody, was one of the largest disparities she had encountered from past to present. There was a time she was sure that Albus would have trust Alastor with his life.

"If I show you my arm, will this matter be settled?" Hermione questioned, trying to dissolve the unbearable division she was sure she had played a part in creating. Moody eyed her warily, something akin to surprise glistening in his eye. He nodded once, an unsettling gesture, for even as his head moved his magical eye did not stop monitoring her. She released her grip on the soft arms of the chair, stretching her fingers a little at their stiffness. She paused when her fingers gripped her sleeve, she had not shown the craving deliberately to anyone besides Harry and Ron, and even them sparingly. It felt like she was exposing a part of herself that she had spent a long time trying to pretend did not even exist. Taking a deep breath, she hiked her sleeve up to display the red lettering that still pained her daily.

 _MUDBLOOD_

Frank's sharp intake of breath was enough for her to almost regret the decision. Moody however, made no sound. He just stared on disbelievingly at the word, unable to comprehend how a Prince girl could ever have received such harsh treatment. She didn't dare look at Dumbledore fearing his reaction might force emotions from her she had no wish to reveal.

"I am so very sorry Miss Prince, had I been made aware-," Dumbledore began, testing her resolve to stick to her story.

"It was not something that I had any intention of publicising, Sir," Hermione interrupted, not able for apologises that he had not the right to grant. If the elderly Dumbledore was sat in front of her however, she might have had a few choice words to say, but he was not, that time was dead. Her eyes fell to her lap once more and she hurriedly began to roll down the sleeve of her jumper. Moody's gruff hand halted her progress. He gripped the elbow of her uninjured arm tightly, for a moment Hermione thought that he wanted to inspect the wound closer, but his eyes were not staring at the lettering. Instead they were peering at her hands which she still held out in front of her. It took her longer than she would ever like to admit to notice that he was monitoring the tremor that was playing up in her hands. She shook out of his grip sharply, annoyed by his over familiarity.

"When was the last time you saw Detective Barrows?" Moody asked quietly, interrupting the silence that had descended on the room.

"He came to me in early January, complaining that his partner had disappeared," Hermione stated, she didn't have to feign the sadness that entered her voice. "He asked me to take part in the investigation, to try to save the lives of those children but-," she continued shakily.

"Children?" Moody questioned. Hermione paused in her story, for some reason her eyes were drawn to the Headmaster who now stood off to Moody's right. She watched as he exchanged a heavy glance with Frank. Whose grip on her shoulder had slackened noticeably at the sight of her arm.

"Perhaps there are things you have been excluded from Auror Moody," Hermione stated hesitantly. "I thought the murders of the muggleborns around the country to be well known by the Auror Department, it's the reason I didn't tell Detective Barrows to flee the country. I thought much like his partner he would be obliviated and the case would be taken by people more capable to deal with the trials of the dark arts," she continued, not enjoying at all how Moody's eyes immediately sought out the younger Auror and the Headmaster when she mentioned the murders that Barrows had dedicated his final months towards solving. She had, rather naively, assumed that Moody would have been informed of such matters. The awkwardness that entered the room proved she was treading on very sensitive ground. There was more of a divide between the aims of the Auror Department and the Order then she would have assumed for a time with no official war ongoing.

"Miss Prince perhaps we can recommence this conversation at a later date," Dumbledore suggested, his wary gaze never leaving the, for once, shocked Moody. Hermione made to stand but hesitated when Moody's hand reached out to stop her, this time not attempting to touch, just motion for her to halt her hasty movements.

"You should get yourself to Saint Mungo's, they might be able to stop whatever's plaguing your nerves, or at least limit the shake in your wand arm," he stated, shocking Hermione who had been expecting him to continue his inquisition. Involuntarily her eyes sought out the older Auror's own hands that he held up to stop her progress. The shake in them was almost imperceivably small and if she had not been looking for it she doubted she would have noticed it. She had to remember that Moody had seen more fights then just the hordes of followers that Tom Riddle had managed to amass. For a moment she wondered how terrible his experiences must have been to shape him into the man that was stood in front of her, cold and paranoid. She shook the thought quickly, knowing without a doubt that amongst everyone in the room Alastor Moody was the person who really knew the depths of wizardry-kind's depravity.

Moody lifted his hands to rest across his chest, perhaps having seen Hermione's penetrating gaze. With nothing left to halt her progress she scrambled to stand once more before heading towards the door, trying her best to avoid the curious gazes of not only the men but the portraits as well. It felt like she was running, but try as she might she could not bring herself to turn and bid the men behind her a goodnight. Instead she focused on putting one foot in front of the other until she was finally pulling the heavy door open. She paused for a moment, giving the Headmaster a moment to summon her back, when he did not she knew he was much too concerned with the irate Auror in front of him to worry about her. She just hoped that her story was strong enough to encourage the men to dismiss her other peculiarities and the suspicious evidence they held against her.

….

Frank waited with bated breath for the click of the door behind him. With Luna Prince finally out of the office he was sure the older Auror was going to explode with accusations. Frank tried his best not to dwell too long on the craving he had seen on the pale skin of the girl he had been essentially ridiculing for the last few weeks. Her story, while seeming outlandish at first, was beginning to fill in a few wide gaps he had long considered suspicious. He was not sure if he should have been impressed or worried by the girl's dedication to avoid any form of communication with the rising Dark Lord.

"She's clever," Moody muttered as soon as the heavy door swung shut. "More than her father, that's for sure," he stated bitterly. Frank froze, not having been aware his old mentor had even met the man that had murdered his grandfather. That was the thing about Moody, his past had to be pieced together through snide comments or the short anecdotes he sometimes told when he was in a good mood. Sure, Frank knew the highlights from his peers. It was well known that Moody had brought down some of the darkest men in the country, but no details of how is was done or who he met along the way circulated the department.

"Bit over the top, pretending to be a muggleborn," Frank commented, trying his best to keep the conversation on a neutral topic. To his surprise Moody scoffed loudly at his words.

"That was probably the smartest thing she's ever done," Moody responded. "Now she gets to hide away in the castle and use her proximity to Dumbledore," here he gestured roughly in the direction of the Headmaster who was returning to sit behind his desk which he had shrunk back to its original size, now only accommodating one person, "while not offending that _Voldemort_ fellow." The distain Moody injected into the nickname the Dailey Prophet had been running with recently was palpable.

"I suppose it wasn't too bad, scars can heal," Frank mumbled, trying in part to alleviate the guilt that weighed heavily on him. It did not feel good to suddenly discover the person he thought was so malicious was fighting the same evil he was. Moody scoffed loudly at his words, emphasising just how naïve he thought Frank to be.

"Have you had so little experience with the Department that you can't even recognise the tremor of the Cruciatus? Merlin knows your generation was spoilt if the concept of nerve damage is so removed from your empty head," Moody snapped as he began to pace the length of the office. It was clear that an internal dialogue was ruling over his thoughts so Frank and Albus allowed him a few moments to gather himself. Frank kept his head down, knowing he had overstepped his boundaries by commenting on the girl's situation. He was beginning to feel like the product of a separated marriage between Moody and Dumbledore. As if by working with Dumbledore and keeping his secrets he had betrayed Moody and now as he was standing between the grown-ups as they discussed his actions.

"How long have you known?" Moody barked angrily, halting his pacing until he stood directly in front of the Headmaster. Dumbledore did not even seem the slightest bit concerned by the growing ire of the Auror.

"I had confirmation in Yule, but I think all of us have had our suspicions for much longer," Albus retorted calmly, a sad glint in his light blue eyes the only hint that Luna's news had been upsetting.

"I could have you up for keeping this from me," Moody hissed, pointing a threatening finger in Albus's direction. Frank had to hand it to the man, he saw no societal status when he was on the job. Moody would pursue Dumbledore to the edges of the earth, most powerful wizard of his generation or not.

"Let's not be hasty now Moody," Albus began as he shuffled some papers around on his desk.

"You've hidden the murder of children from the Department Albus, and what's worse you've managed to get one of my own to join in," Moody hissed, pointing erratically at Frank, who had the grace to look ashamed. "I don't think I'm being the slightest bit hasty," he continued. Reaching out he slammed his fist against the table, jostling the ink wells in the process. The display of anger seemed to momentarily jolt the Headmaster from his unruffled comportment.

"Alastor, that Department of yours has more holes than my _step by step_ crocheted jumper," Albus asserted firmly, his eyes narrowing into slits beneath his half-mooned glasses. "Have you taken leave of your senses? There is a reason this Detective was Obliviated before he was murdered," he continued, reaching out to violently shake the Case File that was lying on the desk. "There are reasons why the muggle police men and the families of muggleborns are disappearing. This is not the work of some shambolic vigilante group at their beginnings, it's much too organised. I used to think you had at least one good eye Moody but now I think you're shutting it deliberately, just so you don't have to admit that the Department you've worked so hard to build is in ruins," Albus finished crossly, shaking his head regretfully.

Moody stayed silent for a moment, shocked by the usually unflustered Headmaster's outburst. It seemed Albus had hit a nerve. Frank held his breath, waiting for the Auror's rebuttal that he was sure would come. To his surprise, Moody instead crossed the room quickly, with stomping steps and threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace.

"Auror Department," he barked, not meeting either of their eyes. In a flash he was gone, leaving Frank alone in the presence of the Headmaster.

"Sir, what will we do?" Frank demanded urgently, if Moody put a target on their heads they could be in for questioning before the night was through. To his surprise, Albus looked completely at ease with the outcome of events. He continued reading through the papers on his desk patiently, with a quill held loosely between his fingers.

"Don't worry yourself my boy, Moody's no fool. His pride is hurt is all," Albus commented lightly, seeming distracted. Frank opened his mouth to retort but before he could Albus sighed and raised his head to study him, perhaps sensing that the young Defence Professor would not be content with so vague an answer. "Pride after all, is miserable company during any form of self-reflection, especially when justice is involved," he advised, with a meaningful gaze that left Frank confused.

"Should I go after him then?" Frank queried, sending worried glances towards the fire place, as if expecting a hoard of Aurors to jump out and arrest him on the spot.

"Let him to himself Frank, let him come to his own conclusions," Albus murmured, "while we come to ours," he added more to himself. After a moment Frank began to make his way towards the door, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. Dread built in his gut at the thought of facing the Prince heiress again. He could only imagine the torment she had endured, he had only heard tales of the Cruciatus. Older Aurors had whispered their sufferings throughout his time at the academy, but if the likes of Alastor Moody was nervous of the curse then Frank knew it could be no walk in the park. It was likely that the girl he had first thought privileged and pretentious knew more about the world and its troubles than he ever did. The thought unsettled him, especially considering he was pretty sure that in a few years the sensation of the Cruciatus would be a mystery no longer to not only himself but many more of his contemporises.

….

Hermione stalked through the corridors of the castle at a fast pace. She was anxious to get back to the dormitories before she was accosted by yet another member of staff. It was hard for her to supress her weariness as she followed the familiar path. If she did manage to escape the Headmaster's and Auror's interest with the story she may just establish enough freedom to begin her planning. It was last night, while she laid awake contemplating Severus Snape's pleading words that she decided that she needed to play her part in the war that was coming. She owed it to Harry and Ron to ensure that at least their futures were safe and happy, even if she could not be involved in them.

Hermione had however, determined that she had no place on the frontlines of the battle field any longer. Her occupation should solely be the Horcruxes, she needed to work from the shadows. She could remember how much she had wished her face had been unknown during the hunt, how much she had craved Harry's scar was not renowned. She wondered fleetingly how much easier the last year would have been if they had truly been anonymous, if her poster had not occupied every inch of Diagon Alley.

Hermione stopped her hurried pace abruptly when she rounded the corner only to come face to face with Severus Snape. He was stood casually, leaning against the cold stone wall in his school shirt and trousers. He appeared so at ease, in fact, that you might assume that curfew had not commenced nearly fifteen minutes prior. She briefly wondered how he had been so sure it was her that would round the corner and not Filch, she chalked it up to the mystery that was her Potion's Professor.

"Well?" He demanded, his tone tense and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Well what?" She rebutted cheekily as she attempted to bypass him and continue on her journey to the Gryffindor common room, where she might find some respite for the night. He reached out and grabbed her arm to halt her progress, clearly annoyed at her dismissal of him. There was a time not so long ago that the name Severus Snape worried not only the light but the dark side too. Hermione wondered how much it irritated him that she should be allowed to snub him, she knew it was made worse by the fact that he had need of her. It must have been killing him that he had to hold his tongue.

"Don't test me girl," Severus hissed, his eyes glinted menacingly in the moonlight reflected from a window nearby. Hermione huffed at his thinly veiled threat.

"Or what? You'll huff and you'll puff and blow my house down?" She barbed as she attempted to escape from his tight grip on her arm with little success. She was beyond annoyed that he had the physical upper hand. She did not even try to withdraw her wand, knowing that there too his talent far surpassed hers. It was challenging to remember that this was a man that had lived many more years than she had, even if he looked a similar age to her. He had time to practice his duelling skills for years, with what she was sure was only revenge on his mind. It was still annoying for her, having always been the most talented individual in the room.

Severus swung her around suddenly, apparently at the end of his tether of patience for the day. She hit the wall hard, her back slamming uncomfortably into the uneven stone bricks that made up the castle. In a second, he was in front of her, placing a hand at either side of her head to lock her in. She glared at him, not dropping her eye contact even for a second as she might have done a few days ago. She was too angry to feel any fear at his erratic actions.

"What did you tell them?" He demanded, slapping his hand loudly against the brick next to her head threateningly with his open palm. She did not flinch, knowing that if she did he would see it as a sign of weakness.

"How does it feel Severus? To be left out of the loop?" She questioned bitingly, she pushed off the wall to stand on her tippy toes so that she could glare at him directly. "Not too pleasant I'd imagine," she supposed sarcastically. She was so tired off putting on a polite façade for the people around her that it felt remarkably good to be unpleasant to someone. Grabbing her hips suddenly he pushed her into the wall once more.

"What is wrong with you," Severus hissed angrily. Hermione's eye narrowed at the implication that she was the one that had something wrong with her. She was not the one who had insisted on keeping the truth from her for so long.

"Don't worry Severus, our precious secret is safe," she murmured angrily. "I told them that the Dark Lord's followers decided that I was a Mudblood and that I needed to be taught a lesson, I kept my name to myself because I had no interest in being involved, hence the picture with Barrows and the inconspicuous mark on my arm," she told in a tell-tale tone that implied that she was revealing an exceptionally abridged version of the conversation she had just shared in the Headmaster's office. Severus froze as he took in her words, she could see his mind racing behind those eyes, even through the glazed effect of the Occlumency Shields.

"And they bought it?" He asked lowly. Hermione was surprised that he had not demanded more from her. The Severus Snape that she was familiar with would have insisted a play by play of the entire encounter, it struck her as unusual that he had asked her opinion on the subject rather than drawing his own conclusions.

"I think so," she muttered quietly, the anger at his behaviour leaching from her voice to be replaced by exhaustion. She slumped slightly in his hold, resting a little on the firm grip he still held on her hips.

"I'm thinking about telling Dumbledore about our situation, maybe I was too hasty in dismissing his usefulness," Severus confided lowly. Finally the man had succeeded in making Hermione lost for words.

"Are you asking for my opinion?" She questioned breathlessly. Her eyes searching his, for something even she did not know.

"I meant it when I said we could be partners in this," Severus stated firmly. Hermione paused for a moment, clearly thrown by his words. Had he really meant it when he said he would train her and work with her? She had immediately dismissed the notion, not trusting a word that came from his mouth. For too long she had dealt with the adults in the wizardry world that were full of promises they could never keep. She could almost feel her over eager self come crawling back to fight the bitterness that had been threatening to overcome her completely. The one that had spent hours in the library researching for her friends. Harry, Ron and she had been partners, they had defended each other and fought towards peace. When she had been petrified, maimed or tortured she always knew in the back of her mind that there was someone she could trust to try their best to help her. Could she ever possibly have that connection with Severus Snape? She sighed as she examined his unreadable expression. She supposed she would never know if she did not try.

 _One last chance Snape_ ¸ she thought firmly in her mind. _That's all you get._

"Don't tell Dumbledore," she informed, filling the silence that had begun to form around them. Severus eyebrows rose in shock. Apparently, he had not been expecting the definite answer.

"Why?" He asked in confusion. Hermione took a deep breath and chose her words carefully.

"He can't be trusted," she stated briefly. Severus scoffed in response, clearly doubtful of her words.

"Albus Dumbledore wanted nothing more than to end the Dark Lord's half-life, why would you think he couldn't be trusted?" Severus asked. It was strange that he should ask and not demand the answers from her. Hermione outstretched the arm that had been hanging by her side to grip Severus's that was still grasping at her hips.

"There is a darkness to that man," she began hesitantly. "One that he can not control," she finished, a tone of finality in her voice. She shook her head, not fully able to confide in Severus just yet about how Dumbledore had brought about his own end in the pursuit of the Horcruxes. He paused for a minute and studied her expression before nodding his head slowly in acceptance.

"Okay, we keep this between the two of us," Severus commented languidly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"So that's it, you just believe me?" Hermione asked, shocked at how simply Severus was behaving. He leaned forward a little, a solemn expression descending on his features.

"We both of us need one another Miss Granger. We both have the same goals, the same desires in this life. It's about time we began to trust one another," he stated. Hermione tried to listen to the logic in his words but a small part of her wondered how long he would have manipulated her had she not taken that trip down memory lane in the Shrieking Shack. She just nodded, not able to formulate an appropriate response.

Suddenly, as if a spell had been lifted, she became aware of how close he was stood next to her. They were grasping at each other somewhat desperately, him gripping her waist and her his arms. Their faces were mere millimetres away from one another. A feeling shot through her, one that she could not completely comprehend. It frightened her more than Severus had the entire time they had been talking. He must have felt it too as in the same moment he had dropped his grip on her and taken a step back. Hermione shook her head, dismissing the emotion as nothing more than a fleeting instant of discomfiture.

"Tomorrow night at seven we begin our training, I want you ready to defend yourself by the time summer comes. Who knows what we will be doing by then," he stated, clearing his throat roughly. Hermione recognised easily that it was his way of alleviating the sudden awkwardness that had descended around them. It worried her a little how easily it was becoming to read the man that had been shrouded in mystery for so long.

"The Room of Requirement then?" She suggested, struggling to meet his eyes now that the anger that had driven her was absent. He nodded his head once before turning in the direction that she had come from.

"Get back to the common room safely," he murmured succinctly before he stalked off into the dimly lit corridor. Hermione did not stay still long enough to watch him go. The conversation had her completely thrown off guard. Did Severus really mean what he was saying? She would never have trusted her Potion's Professor to keep his words in a matter such as this. She shook her head, was it time to start seeing the past and present Severus Snape as too completely different entities? She rolled her eyes at the idea, how could she when he still retained all the memories of his future self? Then again, the transition from past to present was so jarring for Hermione why couldn't the same be said for him. Perhaps just like her, he too had been irrevocably changed by the dramatic alteration.

A sound from behind her jostled her from her thoughts. Once again, she rolled her eyes in annoyance.

 _So much for trust_ , she thought bitterly.

"You don't need to follow me Snape, I can make my own my back," she spat out without bothering to turn, barely pausing a moment from her rushed walk back to the sanctity of the Gryffindor common room to acknowledge him.

"Oh, I don't doubt that Lady Prince," a familiar masculine voice called from behind her in supercilious amusement. Hermione whipped around instantly, her wand outstretched in front of her in one fluid movement. She cursed herself for her lack of attention, it seemed the past was lulling her into a false sense of security. Rodolophus stood confidently, his brother a few paces behind him. He eyed her wand with a conceited enjoyment, no doubt assuming she was no match for the two brothers who had not yet even attempted to reach for their own wands.

"Messrs Lestrange, what a surprise," she muttered, not lowering her wand an inch, her recognition did little to still the rapid beating of her heart. Rodolophus closed the gap between them until he stood only a few feet in front of her. Rabastan followed at a sedated pace until he stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother. They were an impressive sight, dark and handsome. They reminded Hermione vaguely of the Princes in the muggle fairy tales she read as a child, she supposed they too had a touch of the gentry and sophistication necessary to be a Pureblood. If it were not for the glint of insanity that she was so used to seeing reflected in both of their eyes in the future she might have even found herself at ease near the pair.

"Do we make you nervous my dear?" Rodolophus commented with a lazy smirk when he noticed she had no intention of lowering her wand. Hermione noted warily that the older brother was not playing off Rabastan as he often did with others that surrounded him. Did Rodolophus think his own brother beneath him? She found herself completely flabbergasted as to how she was to feel in Rabastan's company. Most of the time she felt so far removed from her own death that the idea of being angry was such a foolish notion. She supposed that too would change with time. _Denial, Bargaining, Anger…_ , she remembered by rote, the idea of grieving her own death seemed so ridiculous she shook her head to clear the thought.

"Well I hate to accuse a Lady of lying but I would find it easier to believe her if she were to lower her wand," Rodolophus commented. Hermione immediately jumped out of her thoughts, embarrassed that they had seen the shake of her head as a response. Slowly she lowered her wand, knowing that any other action would be decidedly suspicious.

"My apologies," she responded emptily. "What are you fine gentleman up to this evening?" She asked, wishing to immediately dispense with formalities so that the meeting might be finished as quickly as possible. She had wanted the night to be over the second she had entered Dumbledore's office, that felt like hours ago to her weary brain.

"Come now Lady Prince, I would hardly call this evening time," Rodolophus responded with a feigned expression of exasperation. He waved his arms around in a motion that was supposed to highlight the dimness of the corridor, the abrupt action only succeeded in setting Hermione on edge. Rodolophus noticed her jittery state with narrowed eyes. It was obvious that he had wanted to entice her with mystery, not terrify her into shying away from him. She may have been naïve to many a boy's poorly concealed affection in her own time but Rodolophus's actions had less to do with affection and more to do with authority. He wanted the Prince heiress invested in his presence just in case he should want to be desirous in the future. It was a power play, and those were things that Hermione was very familiar with.

"How fastidious of you Mr Rodolophus, do forgive me a few hours won't you," she murmured with a small smile, safe in the fact that he had no interest in harming her any time soon. Especially when she was still so full of mysteries and potential as an heiress. He inclined his head at her comment and smirked a little wider, seeming content with her playful response.

"To answer your question, my brother and I thought we might take a brief constitutional around the castle and seeing as curfew appears to have come and gone we decided it would be best to head back to the common room. That was of course until we noticed you making your way down the corridor," Rodolophus answered, his eyes never for a moment leaving hers. His flirtatious style might have been compared quite well to a certain keeper that she had hexed not too long ago, had it not been for the underlying double meaning she had to constantly search for.

"I had a meeting with the Headmaster," she responded, knowing when tit for tat was clearly in use. Rodolophus raised an eyebrow in response, a curious expression settling on his features.

"Ah yes, I do believe I had heard something along those lines," he replied, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. Hermione had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at his backwards admittance that perhaps he had expected to see her out of bed at that hour. "It must have gone on quite long for you to be wandering around at this hour," he commented astutely. Hermione found her eyes drifting towards Rabastan as Rodolophus spoke, the younger boy had yet to open his mouth. His dark eyes were examining her carefully.

"You know the Headmaster, he loves to drone on self-righteously," she muttered, she didn't need to feign her bitterness at the comment. The Headmaster was the most talented person she had ever met; in that he could speak so wisely about that which he had no intensions of following or even believing entirely. Something in Rodolophus's eyes softened at her words.

"You're not the only person to notice that particular proclivity of his," Rodolophus answered, his smirk shifting into a genuine smile.

"Well, I better get back," Hermione muttered, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder in the direction of the common room. He nodded once in acknowledgement but raised his hand in a halting gesture.

"I just wanted to express my condolences that your activities in the muggle world would follow you so unfortunately to the castle, my Lady," Rodolophus stated, the comment seemed oddly rehearsed on Hermione's ear. She froze when the meaning of the words finally settled in her mind. The thought that he had heard of Detective Barrows death was deeply unsettling to her. "It is simply ridiculous that you should be answerable to any actions a witch of your calibre thought necessary," he stated, for a moment Hermione got a glimpse of the real man behind the façade. He was passionate and angry that the ministry were moving away from the rubrics of the olden days, where crimes went undocumented and wizardry folk went from village to village having their fun. Hermione almost felt sorry for men with that mindset, they obviously had no idea of the technology advancements that were developing in the muggle world, technology that would capture any crime and would soon make obliviating exceptionally difficult.

"My sincerest gratitude for your support in this matter," Hermione murmured with a slight incline of her head, hoping the dated action and words would appeal to his Pureblood sensibilities.

"Who knows my Lady, soon the rules might change," he hinted darkly. Hermione's blood froze at the thinly veiled intimation to the war that was well on its way.

"We can only hope," she murmured, trying her best to sound contrite. She must have succeeded because Rodolophus's smile widened.

"We simply must meet up when this year comes to an end. I know some people you might find exceptionally interesting," he requested in a tone that suggested that he was simply inviting her to brunch and not to meet the next Dark Lord. She supposed he had no idea how powerful Tom Riddle was to become over the next few years.

"That sounds lovely," she allowed, deliberately warming up her expression to appear gladdened about what he must have believed a very generous offer.

"It's settled then," Rodolophus concluded genially. "We won't keep you any longer my Lady, our apologies for distracting you in the first place," he finished with a small bow that she was sure was a custom she did not entirely comprehend.

"Goodnight Messrs Lestrange," she bid with a small dip of her head that she hoped was an appropriate response. Rodolophus seemed content with her reply and turned in the direction that he had come from. Rabastan paused a moment before seeking out Hermione's eyes.

"Do be careful getting back my Lady, if something were to happen to you I would think it very undesirable… too," Rabastan intoned darkly before spinning on his heels and following his brother. Hermione froze in shock, her feet gluing to the ground. The pause in his words along with the humours glint in his eyes set her on edge. Surely it was just an unfortunate coincidence?

 _Undesirable… too_

 _Undesirable… two_

 _Undesirable Number Two_

Hermione shook her head before turning on the spot and heading back in the direction of the common room.

 _A coincidence_ , she tried in vain to convince herself. No matter how hard she attempted to calm herself she could not shake the words from her mind or how his cold voice had said them so menacingly. That night she dreamt of Rabastan Lestrange and how quickly he had overpowered her that night in the Shrieking Shack. It seemed strange that the capricious brother of Rodolophus Lestrange had no problem battling her.

…

Alastor Moody paced the length of his office for what felt like the hundred time, the Floo Powder he had picked up over half an hour ago was still clutched in his hand. He did not know what was stopping him, perhaps the fact that he was travelling from work, from an office he had always felt proud of earning. It overlooked the Auror Department on one side and the Ministry Atrium on the other. He had received it after a stint in Brazil that he was, to this day, still forbidden to even mention around the Department. He sighed heavily, everything he had been working for, everything he had scarified to be there, rendered complete obsolete by some young wizard that had notions of being the next Grindelwald.

Alastor watched as the Auror's under his command shuffled from desk to desk getting their work done. It was past midnight by then so there were considerably less people working, barely even a skeleton crew. Alastor had always thought that particular custom completely ridiculous. Did they now know by now that most things they would have to fight preyed in the dark? He looked from face to face and wondered if there was a single person down there that he could still trust. He doubted it, even those without known ties to the Dark Lord had not yet learned to keep their mouth shut around those who had. He longed for his own contemporises, who were all either retired or dead by then. They had known how to deal with a sensitive situation.

 _I should have trained them better_ , he thought darkly as he assessed the younger Aurors. He had tried his level best to reinforce the idea that they were never safe, that they always had to be suspicious, even of one another. He had been labelled a paranoid old man. He knew how they talked about him, 'Mad-Eye' was not an unfamiliar moniker. The only one that had taken his advice to heart seemed to have completely vacated the programme. Frank Longbottom was the recruit that Alastor was most proud of. The boy was constantly vigilant, if a little naïve. Alastor would have been a fool not to have seen the raw potential present in the boy.

Alastor paused his pacing for a moment. Perhaps he should trust the only Auror who consistently tried to do the right thing? With a roll of his one good eye he threw the Floo Powder into the dwindling fireplace that roared to life in response.

"Hogwarts," Alastor barked sullenly. He was not surprised to see Dumbledore still sat at his desk riffling through paperwork when he stalked out of the fireplace. The man had so many responsibilities that there was no doubt in the haggard Auror's mind that he worked around the clock to earn them.

"Auror Moody," Dumbledore acknowledged with a small nod of his head. Alastor hated how unsurprised the Headmaster was at his arrival. He had the funny feeling he was being played, nonetheless he squared his shoulders and looked the greatest wizard of his generation directly in the eye with a sardonic expression painted on his face.

"When's the first meeting?" Moody growled, dispensing immediately with any formalities. Dumbledore's light blue eyes twinkled annoyingly at his words.

"Alastor, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Dumbledore commented with a wide smile. Alastor only growled in response, the reference completely eluding him. Neither of the two intelligent men present could have known how accurate his words were.

…..

 **Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to know what you guys thought so please please please please review! Best of luck to all those people out there taking exams, I know how stressful this time of year is.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello again! I know, I know, it's been a little longer than I had planned. Things have been crazy lately. I got a job and had to move and everything kind of got so busy after that. But I'm back and with an extra-long chapter for all you beautiful people. Please forgive me.**

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 _Come away, O human child!_

 _To the waters and the wild_

 _With a faery, hand in hand,_

 _For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._

-William Butler Yeats

 **Chapter 16**

Hermione stared over her shoulder in the mirror she was strategically placed in front of. Severus stood a few paces behind her, watching the movements of her wand arm carefully. Momentarily their eyes met in their reflection but immediately they both dropped their gazes. The Room of Requirement was exactly as it had been in her fifth year, surrounded by mirrors and comfy chairs. She was glad the he had allowed her to summon the room, it was a comfort to be encompassed with familiarity. Also, from a practical point of few she had long since determined that a mirror was conducive to learning wand movements quickly.

"Stop over exaggerating the flick of your wrist, a blind man could make out what you're planning with those flourishes," Severus commanded lowly, not moving from where he was leaning against one of the marble pillars that the room had created. It really was an enchanting venue. She wondered what Harry had been thinking of when he had first called on the distinctive training room. Surely it was something unique, the room only gave what was asked of it. "You're doing it again," he hissed from behind her, his patience obviously fraying. Hermione berated herself silently for her lack of attention. Perhaps the room had not been such a good idea, as soothing as it was, it was equal parts distracting.

"I don't know what you even mean," Hermione sighed in irritation. "The spell requires exact movements, I can't just minimise them for the sake of discretion, I'm already silently casting," she attempted to reason. The learning material of the seventies was by no means challenging for her and she had no doubt the lessons she had been taking in the Room of Requirement for the last two weeks with Severus were more Auror level than either of them were acknowledging. It was hard for her to admit, even to herself, that these classes were the distraction she clung to during the monotonous days that provided her with an excess amount of time for reflection.

Severus began to approach her, appearing as if he was about to physically show her, as he had done in that Defence class weeks ago but paused in his movements almost immediately. She finally took in his casual appearance. Even after weeks of seeing him without his billowing robes and long greasy hair his youthfulness still startled her. His heavy robes had been discarded early on in their physically taxing duelling session and he was dressed in his standard light white shirt with his tie almost pulled completely asunder. The previous week he had cut his hair until it was well above his shoulders but still maintained that messy element that he shared with Harry. The change in his appearance had at first been startling, but she was glad of it. It helped her separate her Potion's Professor from the student she was spending much of her time with. He had not said, but she presumed the length of his hair had been irritating him as they duelled.

"That's enough for tonight," Severus finally declared, his voice strained and his eyes holding the irritation he had been feeling towards her over the last few hours. Hermione huffed angrily at his declaration.

"Not until I get this right," she commented, the perfectionist in her demanding that she never be second rate at anything. Severus merely shook his head at her request before pulling his tie completely off and throwing it on top of his pile of robes in the corner of the room.

"It's well past midnight, we've been at this for hours. Your exhaustion and frustration are heeding your progress," he answered simply, his tone aggravated. He reached down and threw her school jumper towards her.

"I still haven't come close to beating you and it's been weeks," she hissed throwing her wand down on the floor petulantly. She covered her tired eyes with her hands and sunk down to the floor with her back pressed against the cold mirror. Its chill was a welcome relief from her overheated body. To her surprise Severus simply scoffed at her comment.

"Did you think you could match my skills after only a few weeks? Skills that I have been perfecting since before you were even born?" He demanded, the humour in his voice irritating Hermione more than she would like to admit. When she did not reply after a few moments she heard him approach her but still she did not drop her hands which were pressed firmly against her eyes. "You are a capable duelling partner Hermione," he stated gently, the use of her real first name startling her. It had been weeks since she had heard it said aloud.

"I'm obviously not, I feel weak," she growled pathetically. It was a strange thing to admit to the man who she had been trying to prove her strength to since she was eleven years of age, but her frustration was pushing her to confide in the only person she could openly talk to. To her mortification she felt tears pool against her hands. She heard Severus sigh at her words.

"You are tired, you've been straining yourself insisting on these training sessions that last for hours," Severus began lowly. "You forget that you have already survived war, in which you duelled many and came out victorious," he stated. Hermione began to get a weird feeling that Severus was attempting to make her feel better, which disconcerted her completely.

"Luck," she hissed, not allowing his words to have their desired effect. She jumped slightly when she felt his warm hands on her wrists, he pulled lightly until she allowed him to move her hands from her eyes. He knelt in front of her, towering over where she had dropped on the ground. She looked up at him with her watery brown eyes.

"These lessons are to make you exceptional," he started, his eyes imploring her to listen to his words. "But based on the skills that you have already managed to develop throughout the years of haphazard teaching I would still want you by my side over anyone else in this castle," he stated. Hermione's breath caught as his words began to sink in to her exhausted mind.

"I'm no Dumbledore," she answered with a slight smile, already finding a hole in his logic.

"Perhaps not, but I have never seen that man duel as you do," he allowed, at her incredulous expression he continued. "You always have one eye on your opponent and one eye on the opponents of your friends," he finished softly. "There is not a moment when you duel where you stop considering how you can help your allies, it is a very rare quality and one very desired in duelling partners," he finished. He squeezed her wrists fleetingly before letting them fall lightly into her lap. A part of her ached at the loss of contact, she quickly dismissed that feeling for loneliness. It had been weeks since she had last been touched affectionately, aside from the brief hug that she had shared with Sirius that neither had acknowledged since. In fact, she had avoided any conversation with the young Gryffindor entirely for the last few weeks.

"These lessons are to enhance your skills, but don't for a moment consider that you are helpless just because I am better than you. You forget that I was once in the Dark Lord's inner circle, a position that is not given without an abundance of skill and training," he finished firmly. Hermione felt a cold shiver run down her spine at his words. Sometimes she found it easy to forget that this man had once bore the Dark Mark proudly on his arm. Severus reached out with his hand towards her.

"Let's get you back to your Common Room, one of these nights we shall be caught out past curfew and then rumours shall start to circulate," he commented cantankerously, effectively ending the moment of comradery that had been flourishing between the pair. He did not need to enlighten Hermione about the contents of the rumours which would plague them should they misstep. She had already overheard the girls in her dormitories trying to guess which boy she had been disappearing with every night.

Without any hesitation she reached out and allowed Snape to help her to her feet. Of course, she was wary to trust the man that had lied to her so heinously, but she could not help but notice how dependant she was growing on their chats and lessons. Some people might even call their relationship bordering on friendly. Hermione shook her head, shocked at the absurd notion of becoming friends with her Potion's Professor.

…

Sirius sighed as he heard Marlene follow him out of the common room. It was well past curfew, but he had felt an unignorable need for some fresh air, or at least some air that had not been recycled amongst the occupants of the Gryffindor house. He had not planned on the perceptive girl shadowing him. Sure, he had realised that she had been angling for a private conversation for a few weeks now. He had however, been successful in avoiding her probing eyes for quite some time. He did not pause in his hurried pace but nonetheless he made his way to the seventh floor with her hot on his tail. She did not bother to fall into step beside him, perhaps too perceptive of his state of mind to challenge his self-imposed isolation.

The castle was deserted, as expected, but that did little to unsettle Sirius. He was used to wandering around the drafty corridors on his own. The school had been more of a home to him than Grimmauld Place had ever been. When he was a child he would never have had the courage to ramble out of his bed at night. To Sirius the relatively short history of the dark London townhouse held more secrets and danger than the castle could ever have hoped to gather in the millennia of its existence. The threat of a few sharp words from the Headmaster were not enough to stiffen the adventurer within him.

Finally, as Sirius rounded the corner into the hallway, that contained the alcove that Marlene and he always met, the brunette jogged a few steps until she was walking beside him. She still did not say anything. Instinctively he knew she was waiting for the familiarity of their secret hideaway. He sighed, knowing that the following conversation was not going to be in the slightest bit pleasant.

They both paused in shock when they finally rushed into the alcove, desperate to begin their conversation and rid themselves of the awkward atmosphere. However, the small nook was already occupied. Selena Mortweather, a Ravenclaw prefect, hopped up from ground in surprise at the sudden intrusion. The redhead, whose lap she had been sitting on, startled at the sudden movement of his female companion. Fabian Prewett positively growled when he noticed the two Gryffindors who were still frozen in shock.

"Clear off Black," Fabian hissed, not even moving from his seated position. Immediately Marlene backed away from the Head Boy, her cheeks blushing scarlet. Sirius bristled at the command, not at all tolerant of the seventh years sudden claim to his favourite hideaway. The fact that he had not had much use of it the last few months did little to sooth the territorial feeling surging in his chest. He opened his mouth to shoot an angry rebuttal towards the redhead but the sound of voices around the corner made him hesitate. Fabian rolled his eyes before jumping to his feet and pulling Selena into the corner behind a pillar. Without hesitation Sirius mirrored his actions by pulling Marlene into the opposite side of the alcove until they were both out of sight to any passers-by.

"Bloody Hell Black if you led, Filch here I will end you," Fabian growled as he glared at the dark-haired boy. Sirius briefly experienced a moment of relief, Fabian talking aloud meant that the red-head had had the attentiveness to have already cast a noise cancelling charm on the small nook.

"As if I could be followed, I've been coming here for years," Sirius responded acerbically, before instantly regretting his words at the stricken expression that crossed Marlene's face. Fabian merely rolled his eyes in response. A silence descended upon on the small group as they tried to discern the owners of the voices that were fast approaching.

"Absolutely not," a masculine voice called authoritatively. Sirius froze at the voice's familiarity before sending a silent prayer to whoever may have been listening that a certain female voice did not reply.

"I didn't tell you so that you could act like a dictator Snape," Luna Prince's voice replied firmly. Sirius shut his eyes mournfully at being forced to eavesdrop on the pureblood heiress once again. He shook his head in frustration. _What were the odds?_ He thought bitterly. He just hoped that the suspicious cousins managed to refrain from any odd conversation matter for once in their lives. He really did not fancy playing coverup with Fabian as he had with Lily. Glaring into the darkness he wondered why the pair were not more careful with their secrets.

"Then why did you tell me?" Snape demanded, they appeared to have slowed their pace, not even having rounded the corner into the corridor that the alcove was located. The empty halls reverberated their voices loudly.

"I thought we were a team, this is something that I could use a partner in," Luna replied hotly. Sirius could almost picture the accusing glare she was sending in Snape's direction.

"It's too risky," Snape muttered defiantly. "You forget that we're working on our own, if we die there's nothing stopping what's coming," he reminded sharply. Sirius's eyes met Fabian's which were barely visible by a glint of moonlight streaming through the window across the corridor. The redhead's expression was curious, he was taking in every word being exchanged between the cousins.

"So, what? You want to sit around twiddling our thumbs until we've barely got enough time to end this? I'm sick of being on a countdown Snape," Luna accused bitingly. There was something fierce in her voice, which shocked the other occupants of the alcove, who were only used to her soft imitation of a Pureblood heiress.

"Perhaps if you just shared-," Snape suggested. Sirius could hear the strain in the Slytherin's voice, as he tried to maintain some semblance of calm.

"Nice try, but I know exactly when my usefulness will wear thin around you. I'll be obliviated and half way around the world the second we don't agree on something," Luna accused bitterly. Sirius closed his eyes before sighing in frustration. No doubt their words would be more than interesting to Fabian.

"I don't even know why we're having this conversation, it's not like you can get in anyway," Snape muttered, not bothering to refute her claim. Slowly they ambled closer to the alcove until Sirius could barely make out the edges of their cloaks. Everyone froze when a haunting hissing noise filled the hallway ominously. Before Sirius could register what was happening Luna was thrown violently against the wall directly across from the alcove. Fabian moved to rush to her aid, but Sirius shook his head violently at the redhead, who for once listened to his advice. All four of them pressed their backs against the walls so that Luna, who was now facing them would not notice their presence. Sirius could barely make out the wand that was digging into the Gryffindor's throat.

"If I was the Dark Lord Snape, you better believe you'd be dead already," Luna hissed aggressively as she struggled under the taller wizard's firm hold.

"How?" Snape susurrated, not loosening his grip on her arm or lowering his wand.

"You don't spend a year sleeping next to someone and not pick up a thing or two," Luna replied easily. Something in Sirius's gut twisted at her words. _So, Snape had been right the last time?_ _She was bedding someone of interest._ Sirius thought with a suspicious amount of bitterness. He wondered if the other occupants of the alcove had recognised the Parseltongue that had just left the Prince girl's mouth, or even if any of them knew that the only Parselmouth in existence was the famed Dark Lord that they seemed to be talking about so openly. Sirius shook the thought from his head. If he had been protecting the whore of the Dark Lord all this time he would never forgive himself. The more he thought about his weird conclusion, the more it began to make sense. Her poor knowledge of the Prince's pureblood traditions, her unbelievable expertise in her classes, her beauty that was matched only by her wickedness. All could be explained by the interest of Lord Voldemort from an early age.

"Listen to me, this won't end well," Snape declared slowly, finally dropping his wand from her neck.

"It's as clear as day, we need what's in that chamber and I can open it," Luna replied shaking his grip from her. "And another thing, I'm sick to death of you throwing me against walls, I'm not some rag doll you can batter whenever you feel like it," she added bitterly as she righted her robes hurriedly.

"It's dangerous," Snape repeated, ignoring Luna's complaint completely.

"No, what's dangerous is us sitting around pretending we belong here Snape. We have a job that needs doing and that's it. As soon as this is over I'm leaving this God forsaken country," she stated clearly, her eyes blazing in the moonlight. Sirius raised his eyebrow; her mention of a single deity again was throwing him. The girl was shrouded in contradictions, one-minute Sirius was certain she was in line with the Dark Lord and the next she seemed more muggleborn than anyone in the school.

"Sitting around? I'm planning," Snape retorted sharply. Luna merely scoffed at his offended tone.

"It's been weeks Snape and you haven't even suggested we leave this castle for even a little reconnaissance," Luna accused. "I see Lily glaring at me every day and then see you watching her," Luna stated in a raised voice. Sirius froze at the mention of his fellow Gryffindor.

"Don't-," Snape began, with an anger in his voice that even Sirius had never earned.

"If you want to stay here and play house with Lily Evans, you're more than welcome to. But don't for a second think you can have both a clear head and that fierce love clouding your heart," Luna affirmed, ignoring the growing ire of her cousin.

"You're one to talk," Snape accused quietly. "Playing friends with that Prewett boy like it's old times, you may be watching me Granger, but I _know_ you. How long before you're calling him Ron and running half-cocked into the countryside with that poor imitation of your _clouded heart_ ," he growled spitefully. Sirius did not need to know the context of the indictment to know that it was piercing. The atmosphere surrounding the two completely shifted into something tangibly embittered. Fabian's expression turned incredulous at the mention of his name and Sirius hardly blamed him. The Prince girl had, after all, been avoiding him for weeks, ever since the incident at the Shrieking Shack. _Granger,_ Sirius thought puzzledly. That was a title he was completely unfamiliar with. Luna's wand was pointed at Snape the second the words had left his mouth.

"Don't for a second compare our situations," Luna spat out furiously. "Don't act like you suffered the same that night. You had your chance and made your choices," she verbalized fiercely. "Let's not forget that you chose power over love," she reminded and for once Snape remained completely silenced by her words. "You dismissed your love, but I was ripped from mine," she stated, her voice cracking slightly. "And now, after all that pain and suffering. After making all the righteous decisions and fighting for what was good in this world, it's you that gets the second chance," she murmured bitterly, her voice lowering into a whisper. A tear that trailed down her face reflected the moonlight momentarily, illuminating her features which were contorted unpleasantly. "There is no fairness in this situation, no room for comparison between our sufferings," she continued. "You have everything, and I have _nothing_ ," she finished. The pain in her voice made something ache in Sirius's gut.

"Granger," Snape muttered gently, surprising Sirius. He wished he could see the Slytherin's face, not trusting that soothing tone.

"Nothing but this quest, which I vowed to finish when I was twelve years old and picking a potion from that riddle of yours. When I truly began to love Harry for his bravery and the leader he was to become," she muttered devotedly. Sirius wondered if perhaps the Dark Lord's name was really Harry. He knew that Voldemort was nothing but a pseudonym, so it was possible. Snape sighed, and a silence descended upon the pair.

"I'll get the rooster," Snape agreed quietly. Sirius watched as Selena turned to Fabian.

"What the fuck," the Ravenclaw muttered to the redhead. Sirius glared in her direction, not trusting the sound charms that Fabian had erected to maintain their strength. He watched as Snape and Prince finally began to continue in the direction they had been heading, still muttering nonsense that he could not even begin to comprehend. The four students waited with bated breath until finally their voices faded out of earshot.

"Well the prize for weirdest conversations goes to…," Marlene muttered, her attempt at humour fell on deaf ears. The tension in the small alcove began to grow once again when the immediate threat had gone, leaving nothing but mystery in its wake. Sirius reacted the second Fabian withdrew his wands, aiming his own towards the taller redhead menacingly. To his surprise, the Head Boy did not even bother to acknowledge Sirius's forceful gesture. Instead he turned his wand on Mortweather with a regretful expression covering his face. The poor Ravenclaw did not even see it coming.

"Sorry Pet," Fabian muttered. Selena's eyes barely even had the chance to widen in surprise as he flicked his wand in deliberate motions. "Obliviate," he commanded. The Ravenclaw's eyes glazed over and she stood dazedly beside her night time companion.

"Fabian," Marlene exclaimed, shocked by the usually harmless boy's actions. Sirius could not help but share in her astonishment, not able to formulate any scenario where obliviating the Ravenclaw was beneficial.

"We have about three minutes before she comes too," Fabian informed, his dark eyes focused on the younger Gryffindors in front of him. "Now I know that one of you will have some idea what the fuck that conversation was about, and you're both going to tell me," he ordered, his voice devoid of any trace of humour. Sirius paused, questioning the red-heads motivations. Immediately something clicked in his mind, it seemed so obvious then. Not lowering his wand, he scoffed in Prewett's direction.

"So, you're working with Dumbledore then, how low our Headmaster has stooped," Sirius muttered with derision filling his words. The mystery that was Fabian Prewett was slowly crumbling around them.

"Start talking Black, I know you're not the precious Gryffindor everyone thinks you are," Fabian interrupted, his voice shaking. It was obvious that the red-head had not expected the night to descend into such chaos. Sirius was surprised to note Marlene withdrawing her wand and pointing it steadily in the Head Boy's direction.

"So you can obliviate us like Mortweather? Fat chance Prewett," Marlene hissed, her usually sweet voice sharp with rage at the mistreatment of the kind Ravenclaw. "That's why you've been following Prince around then? Spying on her?" She accused angrily. Indignation flickered across the red-head's face at the claim.

"I'm not some fool that sees black and white, pureblood or muggleborn. I chatted to Luna because I liked her, but is that conversation not even the least bit concerning to either of you?" Fabian reasoned sharply, his tone suggesting that the gap in their ages made him the wizard in charge. Marlene hesitated for a moment, her eyes drifting towards Sirius for advice. Sirius sized up Fabian, unsure if he and Marlene would be able to take him in a fight if the Head Boy was under the tutelage of the Headmaster and his precious Order. He sighed, knowing what he had to do if he wanted to maintain his memories.

"Let's allow Dumbledore to decide what to do, eh?" Sirius suggested, never thinking he would be the voice of reason in the conversation. Both Fabian and Marlene turned to stare at him momentarily, shocked by his calm words.

…

Hermione wandered calmly through the Restricted Section at a sedated pace. It had been years since she had been nervous raiding the controlled books that were piled high in the little section of the library. It could be said that knowing Filch was a squib removed some of the fear involved with a late-night visit. She could effortlessly send him on his way with a creative ward should he roam her way. It was rare enough that anyone else guarded the perilous knowledge that had gathered over the years, especially at night. Sometimes she thought it was entirely too easy to read through the books, almost as if the Headmaster deliberately left them available to anyone who really desired them. She had no doubt that anything that was truly _restricted_ had no place in the library.

Hermione had long battled with herself about searching through these books for any answers about her predicament. It seemed so pointless knowing how she had arrived in the past along with Severus if there was no way to return home. The scholar in her had eventually succeeded in its persuasive ways and she found herself skimming the titles of the books in the 'Time and Mechanics' Section. There was no way Hermione Granger could wander through time in the most spectacular feat of magic she could ever have imagined and not seek answers. Her fingers paused on a large manuscript covered in dark leather. Using both her hands to support the weight of the heavy book she pulled it out of its place on the bottom shelf.

"Time's Bane," she muttered the title to herself as she considered the possibilities of the old text. Carefully she opened the cover, not for a moment forgetting that many of the books were charmed to scream or snap at their readers. She held her breath and was vaguely surprised when the book remained peacefully still in her hands. Walking towards one of the oak tables she had spent so long sitting in front of in her own time she placed the text down and withdrew her wand to cast a hasty _Lumos_ to illuminate the page.

 _I bequeath this tome to my darling Mary,_

 _Without whose constant support, I would still be that uneducated fool who she first met by the seaside in Compton Bay. The days have been much darker since your passing, my darling. My mind rambles towards our days together and I find myself questioning the cowardice of time itself. It stole you from me and I admit that through the lonely years I have often thought about using one of the devastating spells described in this manuscript to find you once more. Your staunch opinions on time and the integral nature of its fluidity have been the only things that have stayed my wand. Hence, I leave this tome for any other hopeless wanderer that demands answers, not so their heartache may be healed but so that it may be understood, and perhaps its permanence realised._

 _With these moralities outlined, I have felt it necessary to remove the exactitudes of the spells and rituals outlined in this book. Rest assured, the theory and its history are accurate, but I am not naïve enough to believe that the dark nature of these spells would deter even the strongest of hearts where loss is concerned._

 _My sincerest gratitude to the most Noble families that have allowed me to peruse sections of their private libraries to gather this compilation of the greatest works of magic to ever have threatened time._

 _Bonne chance, dear reader._

 _Sage Gaunt, 1711_

"Gaunt," Hermione whispered to herself in shock. She paused as she took in the beautiful cursive signature. The descendant of Slytherin seemed much too sentimental in his writings for her to even ponder the possibilities of a relation to Tom Riddle. She shook her head, Sage Gaunt could have been a muggle hunter extraordinaire for all she knew. Loving someone did not necessarily redeem them of all sin, she reminded herself hastily.

Hermione gathered up a few of the crinkled yellow pages and flicked through them gently. She paused in shock at the beautiful artwork that accompanied each chapter. It seemed that Sage was a very competent artist that enjoyed the use of bright colours, which seemed a little counterintuitive to her given the dark nature of the text. She paused as she read bits of the short stories that supplemented the spells, histories of people and their reasons for wanting time to reverse itself. They were all quite tragic and soon Hermione began to dismiss them in favour of solely examining the spell work. True to his word Gaunt had removed any ritualistic aspects of the magic or even the wording of the spell work but the effects of each were described. Gaunt seemed to think it very important to note that he had never actually seen any of the spells performed and that these pieces should be treated as more a history of the Ancient and Most Noble families. He even stated that most of the spell work had been lost even to the families themselves.

The more Hermione read the more disappointed she became. The book seemed more like a collection of fairy-tales rather than anything useful that might explain her sufferings away. She paused her furious perusal of the book for a moment, stunned by the beauty of one of the paintings. It was the face of a woman whose eyes were hauntingly starring off into the distance. Her rosy lips and mournful expression were completely captivating. Hermione did not have to read the caption underneath the picture to know that this was the beloved Mary that Gaunt had mention in his introduction. It was the most heartrending image in the entire book. Gaunt's love for the woman, illustrated with his attention to detail and the ethereal impression that she presented, was clear as night and day. Hermione's eyes drifted towards the text.

 _The Lover's Anguish_

 _This enchantment, perhaps the most heinous of all outlined in this book, allows the spellcaster to relive a lifetime with their recently departed loved one…_

The description went on, relating how the two lovers would be cast back in time to their younger selves. Hermione supposed that of all the rituals in the heavy book, this had been the most tempting to Gaunt, owing to the painting of Mary directly beside it. Her fingers traced the picture, surprised when she wandered too close to the binding to feel a bump in the paper. With bated breath she pulled the hidden page open delicately. Curiously the small writing that had been scrawled on the concealed page had been completely covered with a heavy black ink, never to be recovered. All that remained of the small bite of magical history was a little etching of a dagger. She ran her fingers over the picture in a half daze, inexplicably sad that anyone would destroy a page of such an ancient text, even if it had been considered dark.

Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes at her travelling mind. She was supposed to be searching for answers, not researching the woes of Sage Gaunt. She hurried though the book to find a more suitable explanation for her displacement through time. Finally, her eyes landed upon something of interest.

 _A Borrowed Traveller,_

 _It was noted in the 900's that individuals that had passed out of this life through violent means were making appearances a few decades before they even existed. It should be documented however, that these observations were made by wayward travellers that had little education and were prone to believe that the magic they possessed was the result of 'demons' that plagued the earth, and that should they stop endorsing these 'demons', through acts of violence, that their lines would lose magic entirely. It could be said that hearing tales of a previous victim in other individuals' stories or even seeing an older version of said victim could be a manifestation of a guilt most horrible._

 _Per Quod Cognitio Quae est per Fani Antiquissimi et Nobilissimi Black Familia 'T.M 1200'_

Hermione searched the back of the page in a rush, bitterly disappointed when she noted the book had continued onto another unrelated subject. There was not even a picture to accompany the text, it was obvious that Gaunt had been unimpressed with the discovery. She studied the Latin carefully, by no means an expert in the dead language. She did not need to be to know what 'Black Familia' translated to. She wondered if Sirius would even understand what the dated script meant. She shook her head, knowing that she would never be able to show the Gryffindor the book without creating a justified level of suspicion. The very thought of alerting Snape to her minuscule discovery however, did not sit well with her either. Perhaps if she was careful, she would be able to question Sirius and not alert him to the subject that interested her, then she might feel better bringing the book to Snape's attention. Carefully she tucked the toom into her robes and left the cold library one book the lesser.

….

Sirius and Marlene walked side by side with Fabian away from Ravenclaw where they had dropped a dazed Selena safely. No one had put their wands away, all fearing the other would take the opportunity to end the mess before they reached the impartial judgement of Albus Dumbledore. Though he would never admit it, Sirius was growing nervous the closer the group grew to the esteemed Headmaster's office. Sure, he was no stranger to the office having been a part of several pranks gone astray, but nothing serious. Nothing that would require he hold his own against Dumbledore and choose his words carefully. He did not know how he felt about Luna Prince anymore, and the opportunity to mention her odd behaviour was rearing its head faster than he would have liked.

They reached the familiar gargoyle quickly, none being happy to dawdle in such a tense atmosphere. Fabian did not even stop to say a password to the stature, which instantly jumped out of the way for the Head Boy. Sirius narrowed his eyes, it seemed that the red-head was a regular visitor to the office. Climbing the stairs without giving anyone an advantage with their wand proved difficult. Marlene stuck close to Sirius, trusting him to keep this wand trained on Fabian, who simply cussed and turned his back on the pair. Apparently trusting their proximity to the office to rule out any foul play.

Fabian knocked loudly on the large oak door with an impatient expression on his face.

"Come in," the voice of Albus Dumbledore called calmly, no doubt the man was already aware who was standing outside of his door at midnight. Fabian opened the door before shooing the two Gryffindors in before him. Sirius was surprised to note that the Headmaster was not alone in his office. Frank Longbottom was sat in one of the comfy armchairs across from Dumbledore. The young Auror turned to examine the sudden influx of students into the office with a critical expression. Movement out of the corner of Sirius's eye caught his attention and he turned quickly to notice another burly man that was staring out of the window with his back to the students. Sirius briefly observed how strange it was that the man did not turn to acknowledge their presence.

"Mr Prewett," Dumbledore exclaimed happily. "What a pleasant surprise. Mr Black and Miss McKinnon, this is a little late for a visit," he stated, his voice not losing its joyful edge. Sirius noted how the Headmaster had excluded Fabian from his comment about their abuse of the curfew, obviously Order members did not have to abide by the normal rules of a student. Sirius had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the blatant favouritism. Frank's quick eyes swiftly assessed the tense atmosphere between the students.

"What's happened?" The young Auror demanded immediately, sitting up in his chair as if to spring into action at a moment's notice.

"There was a bit of an incident," Fabian confided awkwardly. Sirius hardly heard him, he was too busy assessing the back of the man staring out of the window. _Why had he not turned to look at us?_ He thought curiously. The more time that passed the more unusual it was becoming.

"An incident?" Frank demanded instantly, annoyed by Fabian's hesitance.

"We all met in the seventh-year corridor," Fabian disclosed, motioning between himself and the two sixth year Gryffindors. "We're after overhearing something more than a little… odd," he continued in response to the insistent expression painted on Frank's face. There was a brief pause in which Frank's eyes skimmed over Sirius and Marlene appraisingly.

"And you thought it best to bring _them_ along," Frank demanded angrily, clearly disappointed in the naivety of the Head Boy. Sirius did not have to be a genius to know what the Auror was alluding to when he used the broad term of _them_ when referring to the two Gryffindors; non-members.

"This is Sebastian McKinnon's daughter-," Fabian attempted to defend.

"But that is Orion Black's son," the man by the window lectured gruffly. The older man turned slowly, hobbling on his right leg. Sirius's breath caught when he took in his visage. The red spinning magical eye was striking and held Sirius's gaze for longer than the boy knew was polite. It was not the first time that Sirius had seen the aged Auror, he was always in the background of the pictures that filled the Daily Prophet. Seeing him in person however, was a much different experience. The man was exceptionally startling, even without the enchanted eye. His nose seemed to be healing from a deep cut that had been recently inflicted, his hair was poorly maintained resting shaggily against his lined forehead and his Auror robes hung boldly from his figure, as if they were made specially for him. Alastor Moody was positively fearsome and Sirius had to resist the urge to take a step back and retreat from him, he did not even bother to rebut his statement. It was true after all, Sirius would never be anyone but Orion Black's son, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

"I already had to obliviate Selena tonight, I didn't want to risk these two as well," Fabian finally allowed with a nod in the older Auror's direction. Sirius supposed they had met before, he was sure the Head Boy would not be able to maintain his composure if they had first met that night. He wondered how long the Head Boy had been privy to the Headmaster's circle of followers.

"Perhaps you could enlighten us as to what you think you overheard," the Headmaster interrupted, obviously discontented with the accusatory direction of the conversation. All eyes, including Sirius and Marlene's, turned towards Fabian.

"It's Luna Prince sir," Fabian began hesitantly. Sirius did not need to be an expert in body language to notice the sudden tension that filled the room at the mention of the girl. He watched as the two Auror's shared weighted looks. It was clear that this was not the first time the Prince heiress had been discussed amongst the men. "We overheard her talking with her cousin, Severus Snape," Fabian continued.

"Well, Boy, don't keep us waiting," Moody demanded, growing tired with the Head Boy's jilted explanation.

"She was talking really strangely, kept mentioning a quest that she felt Snape wasn't working on enough with her. She was trying to convince him to do something. They even mentioned the Dark Lord, but in a weird way. As if they feared that he was watching them, as if a pair of sixth year students might catch Lord Voldemort's attention. It was beyond bizarre," Fabian described, moving his hands around as he talked to exaggerate how peculiar the situation had been. Sirius rolled his eyes at the red-head's jumbled explanation, he was definitely taking liberties with the words that had been exchanged. To Sirius's surprise none of the 'adults' in the room seemed at all alarmed at Fabian's words.

"Anything else?" Moody inquired. Fabian seemed startled that his original explanation had not been enough to promote discussion. He coughed loudly to dissipate his awkwardness.

"She seemed really bitter at Snape, kept telling him to not compare their _sufferings_ , whatever that means," Fabian continued, looking towards the two sixth years pensively, as if they might jostle a memory for him. They remained quiet, neither wanting to get involved in what seemed like a one-sided exchange. It seemed that the Headmaster and the two Auror's were leagues ahead of the Head Boy, obviously not having shared information on the Prince girl with the eager Prewett twin. "She said she wanted to leave the country the second she was finished with her quest," he added, as he remembered the heiresses heated words.

"No doubt she regrets ever entering this country," Moody stated with a regretful sigh. Sirius was astonished at the almost pitying expression that flickered across the haggard Auror's face. He had been told that the fierce man never had any understanding for Pureblood supremacists such as Luna Prince.

"She probably has some finances to sort through at Gringotts, perhaps that's what she was hinting at?" Frank suggested. "I heard the Prince's used to bank entirely with the Goblins," he added with a shake of his head. "It's likely that a portion of the money would still be grounded in Britain, it's probably why she came here in the first place," he finished, voicing a theory that sounded as if it had been rattling around his head for some time. Sirius was growing more and more confused at the behaviour of the two renowned light Auror's. _Weren't they supposed to be guessing Luna's nasty motives? She was a Prince_. He thought examining the Head Boy for some clue as to what was going on, but Fabian seemed just as lost as he did.

"Does the Snape boy seem like the type to join Voldemort?" Moody asked abruptly, an idea having formed at the forefront of his mind.

"It's possible," Fabian responded. Sirius could not help the scoff that escaped him at the understatement. Five pairs of years immediately turned to assess him at the sound, he shook his head and dropped his eyes to the ground, not wanting to join the conversation just yet.

"I'll take that as a yes," Moody answered sardonically. "It could be that Snape is stopping the Prince girl from finishing her business and leaving the country. If he sees it as a slight to Voldemort, he could be hesitating. It wouldn't be the first time this new _Dark Lord_ has shown an interest in the girl, her departure could annoy him," he suggested reasonably, his derision clear.

Sirius's head snapped up at the seemingly blasé declaration. _So,_ _Prince had been approached by the Dark Lord already then._ He thought bitterly. He paused for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet the one good eye of Alastor Moody. The older Auror was watching Sirius carefully. He should have known better than to assume that a man like Moody ever made any _blasé declarations._ He had been gauging Sirius's reaction to the news that Voldemort was interested in the girl. His honest expression of surprise had told the Auror more than he ever would have received from the boy in words. Sirius cursed himself for playing right into his hand.

"Voldemort's shown interest in Luna?" Fabian asked in disbelief.

"Anything else?" Moody asked, interrupting Frank who was just about to respond.

"Something about a chamber and a chicken, it was pretty odd, I figured they were talking in code," Fabian allowed carefully. _Rooster,_ Sirius corrected silently with a roll of his eyes, really Fabian was proving to be a dreadful reconnaissance agent. "Oh, and she was giving out about an ex-boyfriend she was living with before she came here," he added. That snippet of information seemed to have garnered the attention of both Aurors. Even Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and stared at his eager Head Boy.

"An ex-boyfriend?" Frank demanded. "What exactly did she say?" He queried with narrowed eyes.

"She said that she was torn from him, seemed quite upset by the whole ordeal," Fabian answered hesitantly, it seemed to Sirius that he had not wanted to divulge the particularly private fact about the girl who he had been interested in for the last few months. Sirius was not surprised, it seemed like the ultimate betrayal to him. Frank and Moody exchanged a weighted glance.

"Perhaps Prince didn't tell us all about her little _introduction_ to Britain," Moody commented, his tone resigned.

"You think we should be looking for another body?" Frank asked with a sigh. Sirius had never seen the usually enthusiastic Auror looking so weary. Moody shook his head minimally, he lifted one of his scarred hands to point at his forearm.

"I think we have the real reason the girl was marked," Moody continued. Sirius felt his blood run cold, had Luna really been give the Dark Mark? He had heard whispers of such a thing existing but had thought it ridiculous. What leader would want his followers to be so easily identified? "Think about it," he added at the incredulous look he was receiving from Frank. "A fling with a muggleborn would anger all the wrong people, especially given her position and the money coming her way," he finished.

"It does seem to plug all the holes in her story, why else would she have been captured in the first place?" Frank allowed before placing his head in his hands, clearly frustrated with the mystery that was Luna Prince. _Captured,_ Sirius repeated silently. Of all the things that he might have thought the young Auror would have said, that was not one of them.

"This might actually work in our favour," Moody muttered absently. "If she's bitter enough about being separated from this muggleborn of hers she might be convinced to join this side of things. I doubt they would have killed him yet, we'll have to be careful in case they're blackmailing her with his safety," he continued, turning once more to gaze out into the night. Sirius realised now why he had not turned to acknowledge them when they had first entered, his magical eye could see them perfectly even while his back was turned.

"Lady Prince would be a fine addition to the team," Dumbledore mentioned. Sirius turned to look at the Headmaster, he had almost forgotten the imposing man was in the room what with the distracting presence of Alastor Moody. "It would be quite the achievement to have a notoriously dark family condemning Voldemort's actions," he added, almost as an after-thought. Sirius had a sneaky suspicion that it was not at all an after-thought and that Dumbledore had been hoping the conversation would veer towards the topic of Luna's addition to the Order.

"We'd have to be vigilant, but it does have a nice ring to it," Moody murmured with a devious smile that somehow managed to make his face even more intimidating. "Did she say anything else?" He asked brusquely.

"Not that-," Fabian began.

"Not you, him," Moody interrupted, with a vague motion towards Sirius. The Gryffindor boy froze, his time to speak coming all too soon. His mind was abuzz with the information he had just absorbed from the conversation going on around him. _This is your chance_ , Sirius thought decidedly, _you can tell them their imagination is leading them astray._ He was more than aware that if the man that Luna had been sleeping beside had taught her Parseltongue the chances of him being muggleborn were very slim.

In fact, Sirius had a very bad feeling that Prince had been associating with some people that the occupants of the room would definitely take issue with. If not the Dark Lord himself than someone who was close enough to the terrifying man to be taught the language that only descendants of Salazar Slytherin retained. If his parents were right, which they usually were about matters of blood purity, then the only descendant left breathing was Lord Voldemort.

Sirius opened his mouth to voice his suspicions but paused momentarily. Something deep in his gut was stopping him from discussing the mysterious girl. It felt wrong, almost as if he was betraying her. Which was ridiculous, especially considering he had hardly exchanged more than a few words with her. He had however, seen how fiercely she had defended that muggle girl in the park. He had seen how she had read so patiently to her and smiled so brightly as she chased after her. He remembered how, when he had watched her from the window, he had thought that they would one day be on opposing sides of a fight that neither one of them had started. Was he ready for that day to be here already? A flash of the vibrant girl he had held as she cried so defeatedly in an abandoned classroom flickered across his mind.

"Nothing comes to mind," Sirius muttered. No, he was by no way ready to condemn the girl. At least not until after he had shared a few words with her. _Give her a chance to explain_. Sirius thought, trying his best to excuse his silence. He had never wanted to be like his parents, never wanted to inherit their prejudices and bigotries. It was hard to separate his lie from their influence on him, which unnerved him greatly.

"Would you like my memory Sir, to see for yourself?" Fabian asked casually. Sirius once again cursed the boy's horrid timing, if the Aurors saw that memory they would know he had been lying. There was not a Black alive that could not recognise Parseltongue.

"That won't be necessary, my boy," Albus answered, interrupting whatever the Aurors had been about to respond. "Now about the things you both overheard," he continued, shifting his gaze to the two sixth year students who seemed completely out of their element. "Rest assured Miss McKinnon, your father is very much aware of Luna Prince's recent addition to your dorm room and will be told of tonight's proceedings. I must stress that you have nothing to fear with her presence, Miss Prince has proved without a doubt that she has no sympathies with the Dark Lord," he added, surprising Sirius. How she had managed to prove to the three diligent men in the room that she was not involved with Lord Voldemort, Sirius was sure he would never know.

"But Sir-," Marlene exclaimed suddenly, aghast by the Headmaster's casual attitude.

"Miss McKinnon, what you heard tonight was an argument between family members. Severus Snape does not have the information that Luna has divulged to us about her allegiance. I'm sure you realise what a difficult position she has been put in, having to maintain both sides of this growing divide that seems to be developing between muggleborn advocates and the older Pureblood families. I am sure that anything Luna said that concerns you was said out of fear of losing her cousin's affection, who as I understand it, is the only family member she has left that she is close to," Albus informed delicately, peering over his half-mooned spectacles and smiling slightly in a very grandfatherly gesture of fondness. Marlene looked away, Sirius could tell she was ashamed of her words by the reddening of her cheeks and the way she was wringing her hands.

"Yes, Sir," she murmured, still not meeting the Headmaster's eye. Slowly Dumbledore's searching gaze turned to seek out Sirius. Automatically he shifted his eyes, so he was not looking the Headmaster directly in the eye, all too aware of the powers of Occlumency from his own childhood.

"Mr Black, I'm sure you realise how imperative it is that the information you heard tonight does not end up in the wrong hands," Dumbledore affirmed casually, as if they were talking about nothing more than a turn in the weather. Sirius nodded his head resolutely.

"I've not talked with my parents for more than a year Sir and believe me I have no interest in changing that," Sirius stated clearly, ignoring the penetrative glower that Moody sent in his direction.

"I must ask that neither of you divulge whatever you may have learned today with anyone," Albus requested after a few moments of silence. "Not even with those you are closest to, this is not a safe time to promote idle gossip," he added sternly. The two sixth years simply nodded in agreement, not brave enough to raise any other concerns with the influential man.

…

"Well Black is hiding something," Frank declared the moment the heavy door closed behind the Head Boy and the other two students. He leaned back on the comfy chair and tried to stay awake, it had been a series of late nights that did not seem to have an end in sight. He heard Moody collapse heavily into the seat to his right with a sigh of annoyance.

"That much was obvious, have to admit it's almost funny how terrible Orion's son is at lying though," Moody agreed with a huff of amusement. "Why didn't you ask for the memory Albus?" he posed to the Headmaster who was sieving through the mound of paperwork on his desk.

"I doubt that Mr Black heard anything Fabian didn't," Albus answered simply. "Sirius must have pieced together something else somehow," he added distractedly, not lifting his eyes from a particularly complicated form requesting extra protection for the upcoming Hogsmeade visit from the Auror Department. Although Alastor had already agreed to provide the manpower Albus was required to address the letter to Jonathon Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He might have forgone the bureaucratic obligation if he did not want his recent connection to Alastor to be kept as quiet as possible.

"It wouldn't have hurt to look through it anyway," Moody reasoned.

"It would have undermined Fabian," Albus replied. "The boy is new enough to the Order, it's time we allowed him the simple responsibility of retelling something he overheard," he added. Moody barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Dumbledore's reasoning. It seemed like a very timid approach to leadership if he was being honest, but then again, he supposed that was why people followed Dumbledore. He always took people's feelings into account, which was a greater manipulation than Moody ever thought himself capable of.

"I'm still not entirely convinced that inviting Prince into the Order is a good thing," Frank revealed quietly, changing the subject before the Auror and Headmaster got into yet another fight.

"Perhaps not right this second, but with a few well-placed ideas and encouragement maybe she might be convinced after some time has passed," Albus answered evenly, jotting his signature at the bottom of the page with his usual flourish. Nobody missed the scoff of derision that Moody released at the mention of the older man's 'well-placed' ideas.

"Well something's for sure anyway, we'll have to watch how she interacts with Black for the next few days," Frank commented with a shake of his head and a small smile. It really was quite amusing how little the Black boy could hide in his expression.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was to approach her over the coming days," Albus concurred, finally looking up from his paperwork. He looked weary and Frank was not at all surprised when he summoned a bottle of muggle whiskey to his desk along with three empty crystal glasses that were worth probably a month of the young Auror's wages. He poured a generous dollop into each glass before dolling them out with a wave of his wand.

"How do we know what she told us is even true, it's possible it's part of some large plot to trick us into trusting her," Frank couldn't help but ask, his eyes fixated on his drink. He ran his fingers along the groves of the beautiful glass to keep his hands occupied.

"Frank," Moody began, his use of Frank's first name startled him into locking eyes with his old mentor. "I know that through the years I've drilled the idea of constant vigilance into you, but it's very rare you can be completely sure about anything before you make a decision. The best you can do is be careful and listen to your gut and trust that it won't led you astray," Moody advised with a solemn nod.

"So, what? I just keep watching her until I feel like I can trust her? What if I'm wrong?" Frank demanded, suddenly mad that his old advisor had introduced shades of grey into his teachings. Moody smiled at Frank, as if there was something terribly amusing about Frank's annoyance.

"That's life kid, sometimes we make wrong decisions that we have to learn to live with, hopefully yours won't lose you your eye," Moody stated plainly. Albus chuckled suddenly at the Auror's blunt comment, dissolving the tense atmosphere. Before long Moody was guffawing along with him and try as he might Frank could not supress the smile that leaked onto his face.

….

Hermione buttered her toast absentmindedly as she read through a discarded Daily Prophet that had been abandoned on the Gryffindor table. She quickly turned the page from one that described an attack on a muggleborn Ministry worker. She did not need anything hurrying her into action against this time's Voldemort, it would only make her slobby. She needed to have a clear head and to distance herself from the atrocities occurring across Britain. In her own time, she had mourned every death or brutality as if they had been committed on a member of her own family. She simply did not have that emotional energy any more. Instead she perused an article that described the latest advancements in broom technology, not exactly a riveting subject to her.

Hermione felt the body drop into the seat across from her, she did not have to look up to know it was Alice Prewett. It was like the girl exuded a cheery aura that made her easily recognisable. Hermione nodded in her direction before dropping her head back to read the paper. Although she was never rude to her dorm mates she did try to avoid them if possible. It was just too difficult to keep a façade up continually. She had begun to spend excessive amounts of time in the library when she was not with Snape. Sometimes she wondered if this would have been her life if Harry and Ron had not raced to help her from the troll all those years ago.

"How are the classes going Luna?" Alice asked politely as she reached for some fruit salad.

"Not too bad," Hermione responded automatically. An awkward moment of silence passed between the pair before she felt the need to speak again. "And you?" she asked uneasily, slicing her toast into squares just to have something else to concentrate on.

"You know, transfiguration is a pain, but the rest is going pretty well," Alice responded lightly. If she did notice how uncomfortable Hermione was she did not comment which she was grateful for. "What is it you're hoping to do after school again?" She asked as she mixed her fruit with yogurt. Hermione paused for a moment, not knowing what Luna Prince would want to do after her NEWTs. She decided instead to respond with her own answer.

"Well I'm not sure, I've always wanted to travel and maybe fall into something that I love. Be it research or a more hands on profession. I've always envied those people who have it all thought out, dreams all so determined," Hermione murmured honestly, it had been frustrating when Harry had been certain that being an Auror was the life for him. Ron had always wanted to be a professional Quidditch player. Neville had wanted to research Herbology. Seamus had wanted to invest in a pyrotechnics company. She had never dreamed of anything like they had, never craved a life beyond Hogwarts. It seemed strange that the girl who always thought one step ahead was the only one who had not planned her future. Perhaps it was because deep down she knew that there was no way a muggleborn like herself would ever truly have a place in British wizarding society.

"Tell me about it, Lily has wanted to be a Healer since Second Year. How can I ever compete with that?" Alice responded with a large smile, obviously surprised to have received such an open answer from the closed off girl. Hermione was not even sure what had prompted her to give more than her customary two or three-word answers.

"Some of us take more time to figure things out I suppose," Hemione reassured quietly.

"Or at least some time sunning ourselves on the continent, eh?" Alice retorted with a chuckle. Hermione could not help but return a smile at the exuberant girl. Silently she vowed that she would ensure that Alice Prewett received the time that she deserved, that her bright life would not be cut short by any dreadful occurrences. Innocence, the likes of which that was shining in the brunette's dark eyes, needed to be protected. Hermione shook the thought away, there was no way Alice was getting through the war with her innate virtuousness intact.

"I really miss the sun," Hermione confided suddenly. "I used to holiday for the summers by the sea but then we started to spend our winters nearer to the Alps instead. It wasn't the same," she murmured with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Sometimes I forget how big France is," Alice responded with a wistful smile. "It must have been a beautiful country to grow up in," she added gently. Hermione just nodded minimally, the conversation veering into uncomfortable territory. She dropped her gaze towards the paper once more, reading about a new Caldron Coating solution that was being sold in Diagon Alley.

Alice sighed loudly and for a moment Hermione thought that she was the source of the girl's distress. Looking up she noticed that the girl's eyes were watching Marlene McKinnon further down the table. Marlene looked tired, her head was nearly resting on her plate. Her usually perfect hair was tied up hastily in a bun at the top of her head and her uniform was wrinkled.

"She's just a little down," Alice muttered when she noticed Hermione had begun to stare at the Gryffindor girl. "I'm pretty sure Black broke up with her last night," she expanded without prompt. Hemione's head turned at the declaration.

"She was dating Sirius?" She couldn't help but ask. A confused expression coated Alice's face, unused to Hermione being interested in any school gossip.

"Well she never told us, but it was pretty obvious. They were always leaving the common room at the same time. She hasn't really been going out much since Yule, but they were both missing last night. She came back to the dorms, even later than you, all shaken," Alice informed casually. Hermione had to resist the urge to flinch at the mention of her own late-night activities. "I don't know why she wastes her time on him, that boy will never love anyone other than himself," she added with a roll of her eyes.

"That's not true," Hermione defended before she even realised what she was doing. She coughed lightly, embarrassed by her hasty words. Alice lifted her gaze from her breakfast to meet Hermione's.

"Is that so?" Alice questioned with a smirk. "I didn't know you were so familiar with Black," she added with a knowing look in her pretty brown eyes. _If only she knew_ , Hermione thought darkly.

"Did someone say my name?" Sirius said as he fell into the seat beside Alice. Hermione had been too occupied with her slip-up to even notice his approach.

"Didn't you know? You're always on our minds," Alice responded sarcastically. Sirius just grinned in response, but there was something in his smile that made the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stand on edge. "I suppose you have to avoid that side of the table," she continued with a pointed look at poor Marlene, who was half asleep with her head resting in her hands. Sirius followed Alice's gaze and spent a moment taking in the girl's appearance.

"I don't believe I know what you're talking about Prewett," he answered turning back to reach for some toast.

"I'm sure," Alice replied glibly. "What are you doing bothering Luna and me anyway?" she asked shortly, obviously still offended by the mistreatment of her good friend.

"I don't think Granger here minds the company," Sirius responded shortly. Hermione's blood ran cold. Her bread knife clattered to her plate noisily, but she hardly heard it. Her eyes immediately sought out his in a bid to understand where he had heard the name. He held her gaze searchingly, obviously pleased with the reaction he had garnered. _What did he know?_ She thought furiously.

"Granger? That's a new one," Alice muttered, completely oblivious to the sudden tension that surrounded her. She continued to riffle through the fruit salad for her favourite pieces.

"It means farmer, what with Lady Prince over there owning so much land, I thought it might be fitting," Sirius answered. Hermione easily recognised the lie. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest. Alice groaned loudly at his words.

"Not this Pureblood shite again Sirius, can we not just forget about it," Alice complained loudly, well used to Sirius's hatred of the upper class. Hermione jumped to her feet suddenly, jarring the cutlery in front of her. Both Alice and Sirius stared at her, waiting for her next move.

"Sirius could I ah… have a word?" Hermione questioned as she frantically pulled her school bag up from where it had been resting on the bench beside her. She tried her best to ignore Alice's speculative glances, instead focussing on the boy in question.

"I thought you'd never ask," he answered with a smirk, clearly pleased to for once have the upper hand in one of their conversations.

….

Across the room interested eyes watched as the Pureblood heiress fled the room with Sirius Black following a few steps behind her. Rodolophus shook his head, Severus would not be happy if he realised his ticket to prosperity had a wandering eye. He looked down the table to spot the reclusive sixth year but something else caught his eye. His brother's eyes were trailing Prince out of the room, but that was not what Rodolophus thought was odd. The sly smirk Rabastan wore unsettled something deep inside of him. Rodolophus had never seen him looking so sinister, not that he ever paid much attention to his brother. The boy had always had the reputation of being quite the half-wit, it had after all taken him until his fourth birthday to speak his first words. Nevertheless, Rodolophus was fond of him.

"See something that interests you?" Rodolophus muttered, as he nodded in the direction of the Prince girl who was just about to leave the Great Hall. To his surprise his brother's cheeks did not redden in response to his teasing, nor did he utter a skittish fragmented response. Instead he barely turned to face him, his smirk growing into a sneer.

"You have no idea brother," he replied confidently. He stood brusquely, firmly tapping his brother on the back as he moved. "Now eat up your porridge," he condescended distractedly as he made his way to follow the path the Prince girl had taken. Rodolophus stared after him in astonishment, never in his life had his younger brother behaved so self-assuredly. He shook his head with a smile, perhaps the pretty Gryffindor was having a positive affect on him. He made a mental note to halt his flirting with the girl and to deter Snape slightly in his pursuit of her. He had to give his brother a fair shot after all. The boy hardly ever showed an interest in any girl. He was just glad she was a Pureblood and that Rabastan had not taken complete leave of his senses.

….

 **I'm so sorry but I had to stop it here, it's heading on for 12000 words :P Thanks so much for reading. Please please please let me know what you think. I'm dying to know.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Okay I need to seriously apologise for my absence. New job, big move and me generally being a fool. I showed up to the wrong last exam and now I've to repeat, unfortunately. My life is an unmitigated disaster. I should be finished with everything by next week, so things should fall into a better rhythm. Sorry again.**

 **Big thanks to** **galaxies in her eyes** **,** **rabradley09** **,** **IrisDawnDancer** **,** **RememBearMe** **,** **Violet97mc** **,** **DeeD59** **,** **Mariposa64** **,** **HermioneeBlack** **,** **JuliaLestrange** **,** **** **Amanita Nightshade** **,** **leonix2009** **,** **HGranger89** **,** **Tsukiyo Akito** **,** **Lucyole** **,** **EvanescoVeritas** **,** **butterfly363** **,** **HPloverofbooks** **,** **Kallanit** **,** **CoffeeStirredBlack** **,** **xXMizz Alec VolturiXx** **,** **brighteyes2889** **,** **DeLovelyRose** **,** **thewinnowingwind** **,** **C.** **,** **WizardSmurf** **,** **savetheflyingmonkeys** **,** **FoxesRun** **,** **TheLoud** **,** **Mariposa64** **,** **Blue-10-Spades** **,** **VioletBuckbeak** **,** **skyeryder01** **, Elena,** **kyliehb** **,** **N1ne** **,** **Smithback** **,** **mesmerandum85** **,** **kristafield518** **,** **a bar of soap** **,** **Suzululu4moe** **,** **Hannani** **,** **rhythmthief1** **,** **whenthesnowmelts** **and guests, you guys are simply the best.**

 **Please don't hate me…**

 _What though Death at times steps in  
And calls our Best away ?  
What though sorrow seems to win,  
O'er hope, a heavy sway ?  
Yet hope again elastic springs,  
Unconquered, though she fell;  
Still buoyant are her golden wings,  
Still strong to bear us well.  
Manfully, fearlessly,  
The day of trial bear,  
For gloriously, victoriously,  
Can courage quell despair ! _

Charlotte Brontë

 **Chapter 17**

"Well, Granger?" Sirius questioned the moment Hermione had shut the door to the unused classroom. With shaking hands, she rushed to construct noise cancelling wards, hoping to mitigate the carnage that the conversation would bring. She whipped around and glared at the dark-haired boy, at a loss for how to begin with the inquisition that was surely on the way. She narrowed her eyes in his direction when he stayed stubbornly quiet.

"You shouldn't call me that," Hermione warned, her tone wicked. It did not escape either of their notices that they were both holding their wands stiffly by their sides, ready to leap into action at the slightest provocation.

"And why is that?" Sirius questioned lowly, his tone amused. It seemed almost cruel that he should know something so dangerous and think it humorous. She doubted the Sirius Black that she had grown to respect in the future would have been able to maintain the façade of nonchalance. He seemed almost naïve in his posturing.

"Where did you hear it?" She demanded, dismissing his question immediately. She fanned her face with her hands hurriedly, trying to rid herself of the sudden flush that she was developing. It had been a while since she had felt the need to defend her identity. While it was true Luna Prince was nothing more than a cover it still was not the same as running through the forest terrified that a snatcher might discover a wayward Mudblood. She could still remember how desperately she had cast that hex towards Harry's face, that fateful day in the forest, in the hopes that they would not immediately place the visage of the Undesirable Number One. A shudder ran up her spine at the thought.

"Not exactly difficult when you're yelling in the corridors," Sirius answered curtly. He reached back until he was leaning against a dusty old table. A devious smirk appearing on his face as he watched Hermione furiously think back to what conversation the zealous Gryffindor could have overheard. It barely took a few moments for the answer to click in her mind. The night before she and Severus had been having an argument that had poured into the halls outside of the Room of Requirement. She resisted the urge to drop her face in her hands at their stupidity. She was usually so careful with wards, always the first to start casting. Then something horrible registered in her mind.

"Oh, yes. It was quite the interesting chat I overheard," Sirius stated, obviously noticing the flash of panic that had flickered across Hermione's face. The blood drained from her face and for a moment she felt impossibly lightheaded. She knew that there was no way that the once Heir to the Black Household would not have been able to recognise Parseltongue. She reached out and rested her weight on an old wooden chair, not able to stand fully. She could not help but feel like something devastating had occurred the night before and she had not even had the good sense to notice.

"Sirius," she murmured, more as a stall until she figured out what had to be done to prevent the rest of the castle forming conclusions about her.

"Mind explaining a thing or two to me Luna?" Sirius asked, his tone sardonic. His grey eyes studied her carefully, watching for any clue her expression would give him as to how she was feeling. A tense moment passed between the pair before Hermione instinctively raised her wand to point at the dark-haired boy. To her surprise he did not even react to her threat, instead he merely chuckled. "We both know I don't stand a chance of beating you in a duel Granger, a matter I also want to bring up with you later," he stated casually. "You should know though, that I'm not the only one that frequents the seventh floor in the wee hours of the morning," he added as he pushed some dirt off the sleeve of his robe unconcernedly.

"What?" Hermione uttered, feeling bizarrely dumbfounded. She had not anticipated that she would have to deal with such a messy situation when she had woken up that morning. The past had almost lulled her into a false sense of security over the last few uneventful weeks.

"I mean lass, that if you should decide to part me from my memories it would be noticed by some powerful people," Sirius explained cheerily. He took three steps forward until he was standing in front of the dazed girl. "Luna, believe me, I had no interest in getting involved in whatever messed up shit you have going on in your life," he professed solemnly, suddenly losing the teasing edge that he had worn so cheekily. His grey eyes peered into hers warily, as if she were a complete enigma he had never wanted. "But like it or not, I have been dragged in. Mostly by your repetitive inattention towards a few silencing charms if I may add," he muttered derisively. Hermione felt her heart beat a little faster when he mentioned that the pervious night was not the first time the Gryffindor had overheard her discussions.

"Who was with you last night?" She demanded, focusing on mitigating the situation before it got out of hand. She tried to dismiss the serious expression he wore but it was difficult when he held all the cards in their dynamic. Sirius paused for a moment, as if assessing whether he should disclose even something that simple to her.

"Fabian was there Luna. We ended up in the Headmaster's office," Sirius revealed hesitantly. Hermione immediately dropped into the seat behind her at his words. There was no way she would rid herself of the old man if he knew she had a few words of Parseltongue. She wondered vaguely why Albus had not taken her aside for an interrogation already. She ran a hand through her untameable curls, pulling slightly at her roots to clear her frazzled brain of panic.

"Then it's all over," Hermione muttered to herself detachedly. A small part of her was relieved, perhaps the fate of the world would no longer be solely in her hands. Perhaps Severus could work with the Headmaster once again and she could leave the haunting castle. The thought was unsettling to her, she had never been devoid of such imperative responsibilities.

"I didn't tell him about the Parseltongue," Sirius murmured so lowly Hermione might not have heard him at all were it not for the deafening silence surrounding them. She raised her head to study his expression. He seemed genuine, which shocked her.

"Why?" She demanded disbelievingly. The Gryffindor faltered for a moment, pulling himself up onto the table across from her.

"I don't know," he stated, a tinge of frustration marring his words. The answer obviously not even satisfying himself. "Tell me you didn't learn it from where I think you did?" He challenged with a resigned sigh. He rubbed his forehead roughly in irritation, trying to find some reasoning to his own poor cover up for the sake of the notorious Luna Prince. For the first time since she had arrived in the past Hermione really studied Sirius Black. Dressed in his school uniform with his tie hanging loosely from his neck, there was no denying the boy was handsome. He was taller and broader than he had been in the future, the wizarding prison had obviously done very little to support the structure of his skeleton. He wore a torn expression on his strong facial features that gave him a brooding persona that linked him slightly to the Sirius Black of the future. For a moment she considered how difficult it must be for him to see her as anything other than dark, his family had ensured that he ironically had a very rigid stance on right and wrong. _So why had he not told Dumbledore everything?_ She thought perplexedly.

"I didn't learn it from who you think," she confirmed carefully.

"So, there's just another heir to Slytherin roaming around out there teaching girls the dead language?" Sirius asked with a quirked eyebrow, his sarcasm clear. She hesitated before responding, everything just seemed so surreal to her. Here she was, in a classroom at Hogwarts, chatting to Sirius Black of all people about where she had learned the few words of Parseltongue she had obtained from his godson. Before she could help herself, a bark of laughter escaped her. Sirius's gaze flittered to study her face, shocked by the abrupt sound. It was not filled with amusement or even humour, no it was infused with desperation and exhaustion. The more she tried to stop the harder she laughed. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to inhale any air. Concern began to leak into Sirius's features, obviously he feared she had lost her mind, which only made her laugh harder.

"Sorry," Hermione was barely to gasp out. When she finally managed to regain control of herself she locked eyes with him once more.

"Tell me what's going on Prince?" Black demanded aghast. The use of the surname only managed to set Hermione off once again. It was just a ridiculous situation, she finally lives to see the end of the war and then suddenly she's thrown back in time to be Severus Snape's cousin. The absurdity of it all finally began to descend on her weary mind.

"Believe me," she managed to hiss out between peels of laughter. "If you knew the whole story, you'd think it funny too," she continued, wiping away the tears from her eyes. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be as mad as Bellatrix Lestrange, to have so little control over any emotions. She wondered what it would be like to completely let go. To treat her life like the walking dream it was becoming and play the evil villain. The thought of not caring, of giving up, seemed so easy.

"Who is Harry?" Sirius questioned, drawing her back to reality immediately. The name was like a blow to her gut, no one spoke of him anymore. The laughter suddenly caught in her throat, her momentary disillusionment vanishing before her eyes. No one around her even knew who the legendary Harry Potter was, the boy that had kept her going throughout the hardest times of her life. Her brother, her partner, her reason for pushing herself to the very end until there was nothing left to give. In many ways his incorruptible moral compass and fierce belief in a better future were what had kept her so committed to the down fall of the Dark Lord. It just all seemed so pointless sometimes, more frequently that ever she questioned if the wizarding world was even worth saving. Life just seemed so transient to her, so cheap and short. The-Boy-Who-Lived would probably never exist thanks to her and Severus's unintentional interference. A marvellous character not even remembered.

"My, my, haven't we been eavesdropping," Hermione hissed, not even a smile leftover from her outlandish amusement. A dark expression flittered over Sirius's face at the change in her comportment. He had seen the manic glint in her eyes, the loss of control.

"I told you before, you were basically shouting from the hill tops. Now answer the question. Who is Harry?" He demanded once again, his gaze searching hers.

"A ghost. A dead man. What does it matter?" Hermione answered back curtly. Sirius eyes widened marginally at the bitterness in her tone.

"I heard you say he was the leader of the light," Sirius murmured, completely mystified by how strangely their conversation was proceeding. Hermione shook her head, almost pityingly.

"If you're looking for a leader to follow like a loyal dog Black, then I suggest you march back up to the Headmaster's office," she ridiculed acidically as she motioned haphazardly towards the door with her free hand.

"Maybe I should, I could tell him everything I've been putting together about you too," Black responded acerbically. "At least then I might know what's going on," he added more to himself as he stood from where he had been perched on one of the tables. He turned his back to her, obviously trusting that she would not curse him from behind. He ran his fingers through his striking dark hair with a resigned sigh.

"If what you want is to be in the know, then be prepared to be disappointed by Albus Dumbledore," Hermione uttered. "Merlin knows that man kept me in the dark for most of my life," she added with a bitter smile that did not reach her eyes. Sirius's anger dissipated at her words as he considered yet another clue that left him desperate for answers.

"You've known Dumbledore for a long time then? He seemed to think you were quite the enigma," Sirius fished curiously. His hands fell by his sides and he dropped into a seat across from her, not missing at all the way their legs were almost touching in the new position. She simply shrugged in reply, not willing to give any more hints towards her ultimate secret. The shock of his interrogation was wearing off and she was finally regaining a bit of her innate logic.

"Listen Sirius, I haven't been learning Parseltongue from the Dark Lord. Believe me, we are not on speaking terms," she announced clearly, trying to return to Sirius's initial concerns. Perhaps if she were to address those then there was a chance that he would keep his mouth shut. It would be a tremendous relief if she did not have to get Severus involved in the matter. If she was being honest with herself, she could admit that she did not quite trust her old Potion's Professor to act reasonably where Sirius Black was involved. There was far too much history between the pair, even if most of it was now one-sided. For Sirius the anger had not festered into something corrosive for the last twenty years. Severus was not exactly known for his ability to let things go and move on with his life.

"Then who taught you? Does he have a son? A brother that no one knows about?" Sirius insisted urgently, leaning forward in his chair beseechingly. Hermione could hardly scorn his resolve, she would have been more suspicious if he had not demanded an explanation. She knew he was walking a fine line between helping her and betraying the ethics he had moulded for himself so stringently. She supposed a part of him had subconsciously recognised how ill fitted she was to the unforgiving role of an heiress. He had himself, after all, abdicated his right to be head of his own house when he had fled to the Potters.

"All that speculation, it must get exhausting," Hermione replied wryly, struggling to find an appropriate cover story that would explain away anything that Sirius had overheard. It was hard given that she was not entirely sure exactly what it was he had perceived. First thing she was doing when she met Severus next was giving out that he had forgotten to use any silencing wards. _He was a spy for Merlin's sake, he should have known better._ She castigated internally, shifting the blame to alleviate some of the guilt that was threatening to overcome her.

"Luna," Sirius hissed, his patience clearly diminishing.

"There are more than one ways to become a Parseltongue. The man you asked about," she began, not quite able to bring herself to say the name of her old friend aloud. "He received the gift though an ancient ritual that I swore never to speak of," she completed honestly. Harry had become a Parseltongue through the creation of a Horcrux. She, Harry and Ron had decided on the first day of their journey that they would never explain the process to anyone if they were to survive the war. The information was simply too dangerous, too tempting to the maladies of the mind.

"How convenient," Sirius intoned darkly.

"It's true," Hermione rebutted gently. "It was the foulest magic I have ever seen, and that's saying something given my unfortunate history," she added with a weak smile, trying to dissolve the tension between them.

"You said you learned it from sleeping next to a man for a year," Sirius probed, not meeting her eye. Hermione's eyebrows rose, she had not even remembered saying that. She genuinely smiled for a moment at how her words might have been misconstrued. "I assumed he was a boyfriend," he added, his hands fidgeting with the fabric of his trousers giving him a nervous appearance. Why he would suddenly grow anxious in the middle of their conversation, Hermione did not think she would ever know.

"I travelled a lot with him, he was like a brother to me. He spoke often in his sleep, plagued with nightmares. That's the thing about Dark Magic Sirius, it always leaves its mark," Hermione stated bluntly, a part of her wanting to warn the man about the future that he would have to endure should she fail to bring about the fall of the Dark Lord.

"Swear it, swear upon your magic that you don't have any connection to the Dark Lord," Sirius requested, withdrawing his wand to perform the spell. "If you're so innocent in all of this, swear it to me. That way I can be done with this mess and I won't have to feel responsible about forgetting what I've pieced together about you," he implored defiantly. Hermione watched him for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

"Believe me Sirius, we all have a connection to the Dark Lord," she muttered resignedly, hating how his face fell at her words.

"So, it's true then? You're marked by him?" Sirius questioned, with a small shake of his head. A disgusted expression coating his features. Hermione froze at his naïve implication, he had obviously misinterpreted something the Headmaster had said regarding the scar on her arm.

"Just because I'm not naïve enough to think that there is no connection between myself and the man negatively shaping the world as we speak?" Hermione probed sardonically. "Everyone in the British Isles has some connection to the man," she added with a roll of her eyes. She sat forward in her chair and closed some of the space between them.

"Then swear something else, swear you haven't been marked by him. That what the Headmaster said was all a mistake," Sirius murmured. "Tell me something so I don't have to feel guilty about not ratting you out," he added quietly. Their eyes met once more, now only a few inches away from one another. His words seemed oddly intimate to her, which was something she had never previously associated with her Best Friend's Godfather. That Sirius Black had always been on the edge of mania, not battling with himself about whether to trust the Order. Sure, he had fought with Dumbledore on a few points, whether to include Harry in meetings being the main theme of dispute. However, he would never have kept something from the Order. "Or tell me that I've been wrong about you and that you'd gladly follow a man like that," he sneered, jarring something inside of her.

Without really thinking of the implications Hermione reached down and roughly pulled the sleeve of her robes up. She watched as Sirius jostled at her sudden movement, his hand reaching down towards his wand. It might have been comical how his hand had frozen in mid-air as he took in the carving on her arm, were it for the horror that coated his features.

"Oh Merlin," Sirius uttered almost involuntarily. Hermione kept her mouth shut, too uncomfortable being on display to formulate any witty repartee. A few tense moments passed between the pair, by the end of which she was beginning to think he would never speak again. Then slowly, Sirius's hand began to drift towards her. She held her breathe as he gently lowered his fingers onto her arm. His fingertips traced the elevated skin of the horrid word so lightly that a part of her was not even sure it was really happening. A shiver ran up her spine at the peculiar feeling. The movement of her body seemed to knock him out of the trance he was in and quickly he withdrew his hand.

Sirius's eyes rose from examining Hermione's arm to her face. The astonishment in his expression was hard for her to see. The scar was a sensitive issue for her and the gawking really was not helping her pretend that the carving meant nothing. She shut her eyes and turned her face away from his, feeling curiously emotional. To her immense surprise she heard him move forward and after a moment she felt him lightly touch her chin, encouraging her to look at him once more. Reluctantly she opened her eyes to see a victorious gleam shining from his.

"I knew there was no way you were a Prince," Sirius muttered bluntly, unsettling Hemione completely. Even the Headmaster had not come to that accurate conclusion, the mere attention of Eileen and Severus Snape keeping the idea at bay. As if they were privy to intimate information the world was not. Sirius took the widening of her eyes as a confirmation of his suspicion, a small smile growing on his face.

"What?" Hermione muttered half-heartedly, she shook herself mentally from her daze and withdrew from his light hold of her. "I can assure you that I am indeed a Prince," she continued firmly, but she need not have bothered. From Sirius's triumphant attitude it was clear that he would never believe her.

"Now what I'd like to know is how you managed to trick Severus Snape?" Sirius continued, as if she had never spoken. He moved forward in his seat resting his hands on the armrests of Hermione's chair, effectively blocking her in.

"E-excuse me?" She stuttered, trying to lean as far as she could away from the inquisitive student. Something changed in Sirius's expression, as if an idea had just popped into his head.

"Unless of course, he's in on it?" Sirius tested warily, watching Hermione's reaction carefully for any physical answer to his question. "He is, isn't he? It's all coming together now. The weird conversations, the bond between the two of you, the way you look at one another," he rambled, stunning Hermione into silence. She had no idea that the Black heir had been studying her so intently. She tried to mask her expression as Severus had taught her over the summer, but her emotions were too heightened. He was reading her like a book, she barely had a moment to silently thank Merlin for her natural ability at Occlumency, at the very least her memories were safe.

"Sirius," Hermione begged, needing him to stop. Instead the young Gryffindor merely dragged her chair closer to him until they were millimetres away from one another. His arms still blocking her in, not that she would have moved had he been standing at the other end of the room. She was too shaken, too shocked by the revelation that Sirius had just had. If Sirius had figured this out, then how many others were only a few words away from coming to their own conclusions? The thought was horrifying to Hermione. Had she really played the part of a Pureblood so poorly that the entire future was in danger?

"But why? Why would Severus Snape help someone like you?" Sirius thought aloud, his eyes narrowed as he studied her. "It's not for the title or the money," he stated. "Merlin knows both will disappear soon enough when you won't be able to claim anything," he continued with a shake of his head. "He hardly cares about the cause for muggleborns, he's proved that often enough," he mumbled, staring at her like she was a puzzle that was just a few turns away from its solved state. "So, it must be you," Sirius concluded.

"Sirius," Hermione helplessly repeated. Her grip on her wand tightening, if she could just push him a little back then she could end everything. She could make Sirius forgot he even looked at her twice. Her stomach twisted at the very idea, much as it had when she had erased her parent's memories, but she had done it then and she would again.

"Now what's so special about you?" Sirius muttered. "The girl that has everyone in the palm of her hand. For Merlin's sake, even Dumbledore wants you to join the Order. He thinks you're a love-sick puppy who lost her way," he jibed solemnly. Hermione's breathe caught, having forgotten discussing Ron at all the night before. Sirius immediately noticed the change in her composure.

"You're a terrible actress, how am I be the only one that sees right through you?" He whispered, something in his expression sent a shudder down her back. She was painfully aware of how close they were, something stirred inside of her, a bizarre feeling that confused her. "So, who was he?" He asked, not relenting. "The man you loved?" He added when she did not immediately respond. Hermione felt her whole-body tense at the question, what ever moment that had been between them was over and all that was left was harsh reality. She leaned forward boldly, knowing what she had to do.

"A ghost, a dead man," Hermione repeated her earlier words hauntingly. Without hesitating she brought the palm of her hand up and hit him in the mouth with as much force as she could muster, his flimsy chair went flying back and he landed on the ground with a loud thump. She stood quickly until she was towering over him and withdrew her wand to point it in his direction. The shocked expression on his face was enough for her to hesitate, uncertainty plaguing her mind. What was she becoming? Her heart thumped loudly in her chest and her breathing was ragged. He lifted his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

"Wait, it doesn't have to be like this," Sirius attempted, his voice gentle and his eyes filled with so much understanding that it physically hurt something in Hermione's chest. "I know these times are scary," he murmured. "But this isn't right, and you know it," he continued, pulling himself to his knees. "Let me help you Luna," he pleaded. Hermione recoiled at his use of her pseudonym as if it were a curse. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"No one can help me Sirius," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she breathed so quietly that he almost did not hear her. His eyes widened, and he tried to leap to his feet, but he was too late. "Obliv-," Hermione started, interrupted by the locked classroom door being blown off its hinges. The blast was so strong that she fell to her knees, her head hitting off the edge of a table just to her side. In an instant she crumpled entirely to the floor. The voices around her fading into nothingness.

….

Sirius watched in disbelief as the girl before him was thrown violently to her side as he was flung backwards landing awkwardly on some ruined furniture that was now nothing more than scrap wood. For a moment he just lay there, his brain not computing what had just occurred. He shook his head to try and rid himself of the deafening ringing in his ears and shake off his disorientation. It took him a moment to even remember where he was. He dazedly looked across the room to where Luna lay completely still. He pulled himself to his knees cumbersomely. His whole body protesting to the movement, especially when he attempted to crawl over numbly to where her motionless body lay. Reaching out with unsteady hands he turned her so that she was no longer face down on the dusty stone floor.

"Oh Merlin," he muttered as he took in the cut stretching from her right temple down to the middle of her cheek. "Luna?" He called, pushing the hair away from her face. He touched her cheek, patting slightly to see if she would wake. She remained stock-still, blood soaked into his hand the more he tried to revive her. He turned his head to stare at the perpetrator of all the carnage that surrounded him. Chairs were thrown haphazardly around the room, tables splintering everywhere. In a daze he watched as the dust cleared revealing a figure stood frozen with her wand still raised from the _Bombarda Maxima_ she had cast.

"What have you done?" Sirius growled in fury, hardly hearing himself over the ringing in his ears. Lily Evans dropped her wand to her side in shock, as if unable to comprehend the chaos she had just created. She opened her mouth put no words came out. Sirius turned his attention back to Luna keeping his hand pressed against her head to try and stanch the bleeding.

"I thought you were in trouble, I couldn't hear you through the door and it was locked. No matter what I tried," Lily attempted to explain, her words coming out in a rush. "I saw you leave the Hall and I just needed- I needed," she tried to continue, but the gravity of what had just happened seemed to overwhelm her. The red-head gasped for air, her hands shaking violently in shock. The Prefect had not so much as broken a rule in nearly six years of schooling, her actions were peculiarly surreal.

Suddenly Luna's body tensed, and she began to spasm jerkily, still unconscious. Sirius watched on in horror as her whole body shook involuntarily. He had never seen anything even remotely similar, injuries like these just were not seen in the wizarding world.

"Just shut up and get Pomfrey," Sirius yelled to Lily. "I can't pick her up like this," he hissed more to himself. Pulling off his robes quickly he placed them under the girl's head so that she would stop hitting it off the stone floor. "What are you waiting for?" He snarled, prompting the shocked Lily to break into a run towards the Hospital Wing.

It was the longest six minutes of Sirius's life waiting for Lily to return with Pomfrey. He was a little shocked that no one else had arrived up to investigate the explosion before he remembered that the silencing charms had probably contained the sound. A little after Lily had left Luna had ceased her twitching and was now lying unbearably still in his arms. He was not sure if he had preferred her shuddering, at least then he knew she was alive. He watched as she breathed in and out, sending silent prayers that she would not stop.

"Merciful Morgana," Madame Pomfrey exclaimed as she rounded the corner and was greeted by the mess in what used to be a spare classroom. Her eyes immediately settled on the prone form of Luna Prince. She raced forward and withdrew her wand, casting spell after spell that neither Sirius or Lily recognised. Eventually the stringent Matron lifted her wand upwards and Luna began to levitate off the ground. Sirius automatically pulled his hand back to let the woman work.

"No Mr Black keep pressure there, I want to get some potions into her before I heal the abrasions," she explained sternly. "I'm just transporting her back to the Hospital Wing at the moment," she added solemnly. Sirius hesitated for a moment.

"Madame… earlier… her whole body shook really hard. It was like she was being possessed," Sirius confided, his knees wobbling slightly when he had to rise to keep his hand pressed against Luna's temple. He was sure he had damaged something in his leg when he had been thrown back. "Is that normal?" He asked nervously. Madame Pomfrey hesitated, her eyebrow's rising.

"Her whole body?" The elderly woman repeated. Sirius nodded his head, the incredulous look on Pomfrey's face unsettling him even further. "Then I'm afraid that this is not _normal_ Mr Black, not in the slightest bit," she stated warily, watching Luna almost in a new light that nearly made Sirius regret mentioning it.

….

Frank Longbottom raced towards the Hospital Wing purposefully. He had abandoned his third-year class the moment he had received the Patronus from Albus that had hinted vaguely at urgent business. Dread filled him when he rounded the corner to see Professor McGonagall stalking towards the Hospital Wing with the same resolve as him from the other direction. What was so important that Dumbledore had summoned not only the Deputy Headmistress but also the only Auror on staff? McGonagall's gaze met his and she quirked her eyebrow in question, obviously wondering if he knew why they had been summoned. He simply shrugged in reply, none the wiser.

Silently they both turned to enter the Hospital Wing through the familiar heavy doors. The second they opened they appeared to disrupt a silencing charm. The sound of loud hysteric voices immediately filled the space surrounding the young Auror. He sprang into action, passing out McGonagall and rushing into the Wing. The first person he noticed was the petite form of Lily Evans sitting on one of the beds and staring off into space. She seemed in a daze, completely oblivious to the hustle around her. The emptiness in her eyes gave Frank pause, he had seen that look on the faces of Auror's after a particularly rough battle.

"Frank, my boy," Albus's solemn voice summoned him from his musings. He turned to see the older Headmaster standing at the foot of a bed on the other side of the room. His head was barely turned to greet Frank, too concerned with the patient in front of him. Frank's breath caught as he took in the prone form of Luna Prince. Her twitching body and blood-soaked head were so starling he almost took a step back. The girl looked harried with fever, her forehead glistened with sweat and her eyes squeezed shut. It was quite the starling sight and forced Frank to do a trouble take.

"What in Merlin's name happened?" Frank demanded, glued to his spot on the floor as if an unseen force was making him unable to approach.

"I didn't mean to," Lily whispered from beside him, her face ashen. "I'd never tried the spell before," she continued, but it was clear the girl was more talking to herself than anyone else. Her eyes did not leave the spot on the floor that they were staring at so vacantly. Frank felt his blood run cold at her words. He shook himself from his stupor and hurried over to the Headmaster's side. Trying his best to keep out of the way of the bustling Matron as she raced around the bed of the Pureblood heiress.

"Albus? What happened?" Minerva questioned from the other side of the Headmaster. Albus sighed heavily, his exhaustion clear.

"Miss Evans cast an ill-advised _Bombarda Maxima_ on a warded door that Miss Prince and Mister Black were talking behind, the force threw them back," Albus explained simply, his eyes never halting his pensive examination of the girl. Frank belatedly noticed the pale face of Sirius Black sitting on a bed a few away from Luna's. He was staring at the her worriedly, his bottom lip spit and a hand pressed into his left ear. Overall, he looked a good deal better than Luna Prince.

"This could hardly be caused by an explosion, the girl looks feverish," Frank reasoned, gesturing towards her with a wave of his hand. He watched as Madame Pomfrey placed a cool towel on the girl's forehead. It was no use, the girl's twitching had twisted it to the side in no time, the towel fell on the white pillow uselessly. Her eyes were shut but she was mumbling nonsensically to herself.

"No, this is something more," Madame Pomfrey responded gently. "I think the explosion jarred something much more serious," she confided lowly. Her eyes flittering towards the two remaining conscious students in the room surreptitiously, obviously nervous of being overheard. Frank felt like he was missing an integral piece of the explanation, judging by the grave expression on both the Matron and the Headmaster's faces.

"Serious?" Frank encouraged impatiently.

"Nerve damage Auror Longbottom," Madame Pomfrey answered, finally raising her eyes to study the young man. A solemn expression covered the fierce woman's face.

"The whiplash of the explosion could have inadvertently jerked the spinal column, injuring it and ruining whatever balance her magic had managed to secure after the atrocities she suffered through," Albus stated solemnly, choosing his words carefully. Everything slowly began to sink in for Frank, he inhaled sharply horrified by his conclusion.

"So, this could all be a delayed reaction to the Cruciatus Curse?" Frank demanded, his voice a tad too loud. Sirius's head turned at his words, his eyes widening. Frank immediately lowered his voice, flinching slightly at the inadvertent attention he had gathered. "But that means that this could be permanent? Her faculties may never return?" He questioned, studying the shuddering girl in a whole new light. He heard McGonagall's sudden intake of breath at his words, the irreversibility of the situation having not crossed her mind. Albus nodded grimly, pausing for a moment to allow the clout of the situation to settle in everyone's mind.

"It is a very real possibility. If Miss Prince's nervous system does not find a balance with her magic then this situation could become very dire indeed," Albus stated with a heavy sigh, it was clear that the Headmaster already considered the situation _dire_. Frank wavered for a moment, unsure of how to continue with the sudden development.

"Either way, I think it's of the utmost importunate that you contact her relatives," Madame Pomfrey interrupted. McGonagall nodded her head, turning slightly as if to hurry towards the Slytherin Common Room. Albus raised his hand in a halting gesture.

"I've already contacted Professor Slughorn about locating and bringing Mr Snape here," the Headmaster explained grimly. "However, I fear that we shall have to tread carefully with the boy," he advised vaguely.

"Albus?" McGonagall questioned.

"There are experimental treatments ongoing in St Mungo's at the moment, that might be beneficial for Miss Prince," Madame Pomfrey told uneasily. Frank shook his head, shocked that the Matron had not begun with the important fact.

"What are we waiting for? Let's get the girl over there," Frank hissed, stepping forward boldly closer to the end of the bed. The Headmaster shook his head sharply.

"Experimental Frank," Albus clarified.

"But surely some sort of treatment is better than no treatment at all?" Frank demanded, angered by how slow moving everyone seemed to be. He did not even like the girl and he seemed the most concerned for her wellbeing.

"Experimental treatment isn't like general admittance to hospital," Pomfrey explained unhappily. "Consent is needed," she continued. Frank's eyes returned towards the juddering girl lying on the bed. Instantly he knew the she would not be able to consent to anything so official. He sighed when he realised why he would have to be so careful around the boy.

"Surely not Severus?" Minerva demanded warily. "What about the boy's mother? Wouldn't she be the more logical person to contact?" she added hopefully. Albus shook his head.

"Eileen Prince seems to have no interest in Luna Prince and has always deferred to her son's opinion on the girl," Albus dispensed the titbit of information morosely. Frank looked around the room, it seemed strange that he would be contacted for such a tender matter. Dealing with ailing girls was hardly his expertise. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Is that why I'm here, to goad the boy into signing whatever papers are needed?" Frank asked curiously, not at all maddened by the suggestion. If anything, he was grateful that he was not here to watch Luna Prince's demise. A few weeks ago, he would have wanted nothing more than to see the brunette suffer, but right in that moment he would have given anything to leave the hospital wing behind him.

"Actually, I was hoping Minerva might be able to have a few words with the boy?" Albus inquired cautiously. Frank watched his old transfiguration teacher nod immediately in acceptance of her role from the corner of his eye.

"Then Sir, what is there left for me to do?" Frank asked, trying his best to keep his eyes away from the bed in front of him. Albus turned fully towards him, a flicker of consternation flashing in his light blue eyes.

"If that was Lily Evans in that bed you wouldn't be hesitating in investigating the situation," Albus accused, his tone disappointed. It took a moment for Frank to understand what the Headmaster was hinting at. His eyes trailed over the where Lily Evans was sat staring off into space. "As it is, two students are injured most grievously. One with a broken ankle and ruptured eardrum and the other battling for her life," he lectured lugubriously. "As much as I wish this problem might disappear, should Miss Prince's health not recover Miss Evans could be looking at a significant amount of time in Azkaban," he described, somehow managing to make the whisper he was talking in sound intimidating. "And even if she was to recover, the odds of her not pressing charges are slim to none," he continued.

"But Sir-," Frank tried to impose. The idea of Lily Evans being dragged through the courts all because of one mistake seemed completely unfair to him.

"Frank, for a few moments could you please forget about your own prejudices and realise that it doesn't matter what blood anyone has. What Miss Evans did was wrong and now I'm afraid she has to pay the price," Albus accused vehemently, his patience lost for the day. Frank felt like he had been physically stroke. _The leader of the light condemning you for your prejudices would do that to you._ He nodded sharply before stalking over to the other side of the room, in the direction of a miserable red-head, not knowing if he was angry with the Headmaster or himself. Either way he was thoroughly chastised.

….

Severus Snape followed Professor Slughorn at a hurried pace. Every turn the man made in the direction of the Hospital Wing filled him with dread. Slughorn had not told him why he was being summoned just that it was urgent, which of course had panicked him to no end. He had seen Hermione follow Sirius out of the Great Hall looking rather pale that morning. He just hoped she had not done anything too exposing. That was the thing about Hermione Granger, at times she was the epitome of logic and then sometimes she completely followed her heart. It was what made her a Gryffindor as opposed to a Ravenclaw.

Severus cursed internally when they turned into the corridor of the Hospital Wing and Slughorn began to slow his pace. Horrible thought after horrible thought flittered through his mind. What had the girl done to herself? He shook his head to regain some semblance of calm. He swore internally and promised to admonish the girl for worrying him if he found her safe and sound. When they finally reached the door Slughorn began to open it before pausing and turning towards Severus.

"You better prepare yourself son," Slughorn murmured lowly, pity shining through his dark eyes. Severus's breathe caught, what exactly was waiting for him behind those doors? The first thing he noticed when Slughorn finally stepped aside was Lily Evans sitting alone on one of the beds. A vacant expression decorated her pretty features. He paused in his step, hating the emptiness in her eyes. He had not seen her looking like that since he had found her lying by a crib on that fateful Hallowe'en night. A shiver ran up his spine at the very thought.

Something must have alerted Lily to his presence, for after a moment she turned her gaze in his direction. A tense few moments passed before her face contorted and she released a loud sob, her eyes summoning him to her side. He took a hesitant step forward before a soft moan from the opposite side of the room interrupted his scattered thoughts. He chanced a glance in the direction before quickly doing a double take. Instantly the entirety of his focus shifted towards the familiar girl lying uncomfortably on top of the cold white bed linen. Immediately his feet shifted direction, away from his childhood friend, and towards Hermione Granger.

Severus walked numbly towards the bottom of Hermione's bed, his brain not computing what his eyes were seeing in any way. He watched as Madame Pomfrey fussed around the bed, hovering over the patient determinedly. The girl looked nothing like Hermione Granger. The sweat coated sickly being that convulsed so horridly held no resemblance to the resilient girl that he had watched grow into such a fierce fighter. The only person that could save the world from its toil was fading out of it before his disbelieving eyes.

"What happened?" Severus asked, not knowing who he was addressing his question to. He was surprised when his voice came out as nothing more than a whisper. "What happened?" He demanded once more, his voice stronger. He composed himself quickly, he knew too well how unhelpful a clouded mind could be.

"There was an accident," the familiar voice of Professor McGonagall explained from behind him, her tone gentle. He did not turn towards her, his eyes were glued to the imposter in the bed, unable to look away. "An explosion," she continued, her voice catching slightly. Severus squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to remain calm, but if even Minerva was concerned he knew it was serious. Movement from the corner of his eye distracted him momentarily.

"You," Severus hissed the second he noticed Sirius Black sitting on one of the hospital beds. Sirius just glared in reply, wincing when frowning at Severus split open his cut lip once again. "You did this," Severus continued, the glint in his eyes bordering on murderous.

"Now Mister Snape I can assure you that-," Minerva attempted to appease from behind Severus, but he was not listening. He stalked forwards towards the Black boy angrily, withdrawing his wand in one fluid flick of his hand.

"What did you do?" Severus demanded, his wand thrust out in front of him. To his annoyance Sirius simply scoffed in his direction, an expression of derision decorating his youthful features.

"Mister Snape-," Minerva reprimanded in an aghast tone.

"If you want someone to blame Snivellus, why not point that wand across the room. Your fucking girlfriend almost killed me today," Sirius hissed, nodding in the direction he had been implying as he reached out and pushed Severus's wand away from him roughly. Severus did not protest, he was too busy following Sirius's line of sight. His eyes skimmed over Lily, not believing she could ever be more than an innocent bystander in the mess that was surrounding him. Her guilty eyes that had been watching him so intently however, gave him pause. Then finally he noticed Frank Longbottom, in his Auror robes standing next to the girl, as if he was guarding a prisoner.

"No," Severus breathed lowly.

"Oh yes," Sirius complained from beside him, his voice nothing more than an angry growl. "She blew up half a classroom," he added as he winced when he shifted his foot onto the bed. Severus was about to hiss an angry retort when a small familiar voice dragged him from his furious investigation.

"I found it," Hermione's usually strong voice whimpered from behind Severus. He whipped around quickly to examine the girl who was staring towards the ceiling with terrified eyes. Obviously, she was seeing something completely different from the faded white paint and beige border. He took a few hesitant steps towards her, unsure of what to do. "I swear we just found it," she cried, spurring Severus to move faster to her side.

"Luna," he called, hoping to awaken her from whatever daze she was in.

"She won't wake," a voice spoke from the other side of the bed. Severus had hardly noticed Minerva approach him. Everything seemed to fade in to the background as he studied the sickly girl. As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, he had seen many students tortured and had stayed silent to maintain his cover. When he had died that night in the Shrieking Shack, so many things had passed through his mind. A part of him was relieved, he would no longer have to stand by while all those horrible things were happening, he would no longer have to dismiss the hopeful glances from young children. Watching Hermione in that moment, all those feelings came pouring back to him. His failings, his guilt, his responsibilities. He closed his eyes briefly to steady himself from the onslaught of emotion that was threatening to overtake him.

He could not help but curse the darkness that seemed to chase Hermione Granger even through time. Reaching forward Severus picked up the cool wet cloth that had fallen to the side of the pillow. Tenderly he pressed it to her damp forehead. She stilled momentarily, some semblance of peace returning to her features. He distantly noticed Minerva closing the curtains to block the view of the various others that occupied the Hospital Wing. With one flick of her wand he felt a noise cancelling ward raised around the small bed. Snape was glad of it, he was in no mood to hear Black's running commentary on, or even consider how Lily was involved in the travesty that surrounded him.

"Mr Snape?" Minerva murmured gently. Snape did not raise his gaze to greet his old friend, he was too fixated with Hermione. Nobody knew how integral she was to the future, how her very survival could shift the tide of the war forever. A part of him ached at his blunt realisation, it seemed almost wicked to consider what Hermione's passing would do to the future. She was a person, not a pawn. A person that throughout the last few weeks he had grown to respect a great deal. So much so that it stung keenly to see her struggling so agonizingly. He froze suddenly when he recognised the feeling, withdrawing his hand immediately from her forehead. It simply would not do to begin to care for the Gryffindor student. He needed an ally, not a friend.

"Severus?" Minerva attempted once more, this time a little more firmly.

"I know what you're going to ask," Severus answered, not bothering to turn to address Minerva fully. It was too painful. The second he had seen Hermione twitching on the bed, his brain had involuntarily come to the dreadful diagnosis. He was not naïve to the horrid things that she had endured during war time, how could he be when he saw the evidence in every twitch of her small frame? It was not hard for him to put the few pieces of the unfortunate puzzle together, especially with his years of experience in dealing with the delayed effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Excuse me?" Minerva asked, her tone bemused.

"I know what you would ask of me," Severus repeated. "That she should be whisked away to St Mungo's," he added in little more that a whisper, unable to help himself he reached forward and pushed the damp hair out of Hermione's face and behind her ear. She seemed so frail in that state, so unlike the fierce girl he knew.

"I assure you Mr Snape that St Mungo's has more facilities to provide for cases such-," Minerva began the tirade she had obviously been preparing.

"No," Severus interrupted simply, with his free hand he dragged over a visiting chair before falling into it heavily. Preparing himself mentally for the gruelling few hours in which he would not leave the girl's side.

" _No?_ " Minerva repeated in her thick Scottish brogue, completely aghast. Hermione began to spasm once more and before he knew what he was doing Severus's hand was gripping hers tightly. Hoping against hope that this sudden bout of movement would not be the last of the girl. She seemed to calm somewhat at the contact, so he kept his hand in place, monitoring her carefully for any changes. He was not some teenager, he reminded himself firmly. He had a Potions Mastery and he could guarantee he knew more about Dark Magic recovery than anyone else in the British Isles. They could do this, he reaffirmed. They could survive this too.

"She doesn't leave Hogwarts, this is where she belongs," Severus answered decisively. "It's where she's always belonged," he murmured, more for his own benefit than anyone else's.

…..

Frank Longbottom hurried through the empty corridors of the sixth floor. He had just deposited the Evans girl at the Headmasters office for a disciplinary meeting. Before Dumbledore could ask him to stay he had practically fled the office. Though he loathed to admit it, the older man's words had been playing on his mind for hours. It was hard to hear criticism from someone he respected so much. It meant it could not be ignored. His treatment of the Prince girl had been reprehensible at best, and cruel at worst. It was easy to see that, when his immediate anger at her sudden appearance in his life had diminished it was obvious.

Frank's grandfather had been his hero when he was little. He had followed him everywhere, modelled himself on him most keenly. It was why he had been so fixated on becoming an Auror all of his life. When he had heard he had suffered such a terrible death, he had been heartbroken. When he had heard, through the grapevine, that the elder Prince had been involved he had vowed to avenge his grandfather. Hearing the Headmaster's biting words however, he was forced to wonder how proud the man would be if he was alive to see him then? He had been tolerant, fierce and above all else kind. There was no way Xavier Longbottom would have berated a young girl solely based on her last name. He would have seen the good in her and encouraged it. He would have known the right thing to do instantly. Not like Frank, he felt like he was floundering.

Spinning quickly Frank punched the stone wall to his side, desperate to still the punishing thoughts circling in his mind. It barely took a moment for shooting pain to completely overcome his senses, he did not care. In fact, he welcomed it, anything to distract him from his own inadequacies. He hissed loudly and shut his eyes tightly to calm himself.

"Professor?" A timid voice spoke from behind him. Frank spun around, cursing himself for his poor observational skills. There was no doubt that Hogwarts was lulling him into a false sense of security, if he was surprised like this on the outside who knew how long he would last. Alice Prewett was perched on the edge of the stone windowsill, a touch of trepidation covering her feminine features.

"Miss Prewett, my apologies," Frank greeted uncertainly, too embarrassed to admit that he had not noticed her presence. He ran a calloused hand through his uncombed hair to stop himself from fidgeting.

"Are you alright Professor?" Alice asked timidly, gently closing the textbook that had been casually strewn upon her lap. Frank hesitated, unsure of how to answer that question to someone who had just witnessed him almost break his hand deliberately. Instead he settled on a brisk nod, not meeting her eyes, wondering awkwardly when it would be socially acceptable for him to flee the scene. To his surprise Alice stood hesitantly, taking a step nearer to him. Her brown-green eyes examined him carefully. He was vaguely fuddled by how starling her eyes were, so much so that his fleeting glance at her had turned into a short stare. He wondered how it was he had not noticed them before.

"You're bleeding, Sir?" She commented, gesturing lightly towards his hand. Frank shook himself from his odd daze and shifted his gaze towards his wounded hand. For a moment he had almost completely forgotten about the injured appendage. He flexed his aching fingers warily, testing their welfare.

"It's nothing really," he replied, moving the hand behind his back. Alice simply raised her eyebrow in a cute expression of disbelief. Showing that he was clearly not fooling anyone with his attempt at martyring. To his surprise she simply took another step forward, extending her small hand in his direction.

"Don't worry, I'm pretty good at healing charms," Alice stated simply. Something about the uncomplicated way she had presented the idea to him was appealing. She was not asking hard questions, judgiing his outburst or looking at him like the other students did. To many his presence at the school was an unwanted reminder of the horrors that lurked just outside the castle walls. While no one said anything directly to him, he was perceptive enough to know that he unnerved a large portion of the students. While it was true that some of them seemed to idolise him and the Auror badge he possessed he knew that the reverence only lasted if the bravery did. After a while, everyone wanted the unwelcome reminders pushed away. He hardly blamed them, Hogwarts had been a haven for him too.

Without fully realising what he was doing Frank extended his injured hand in the direction of the young girl. Moving slowly, as if not to startle him, she withdrew her wand and placed his large hand palm upwards in her own. Her touch was warm and soft, nothing at all like his own frigid dry skin. She mumbled a few healing spells under her breath that he, unsurprisingly, did not recognise. The healing course he had taken in the academy had been primarily about mitigating blood loss and abating dark magic. He watched her work silently, sincerely impressed when a tingling feeling overtook his hand before all sign of injury disappeared completely.

"Being modest, were you?" He complimented, with a nod towards his hand, referring to her own dismissive appraisal of her healing skills. No colour flooded her cheeks at his words, like he would have thought. Instead she simply shrugged at the praise, lifting those starling eyes to assess him once more.

"When I was younger I had hoped to be a healer one day," she answered simply, with a small mournful sigh that held a story that Frank decided he needed to know. It would have been rude not to ask, after all the girl had just healed his hand.

"Not anymore?" He questioned gently. She shook her head lightly, a small smile flickering onto her delicate features.

"I think I'd be more useful in the Auror Academy, what with everything the way it is," she responded quietly. A horrid feeling filled Frank's gut at her words. A part of him wanted to reach over to the young girl and convince her to do anything else with her life. Tell her that it was not worth it, that it would never be. Something stopped him however, the same thing that impeded him from deserting the corrupt Department. The fact that he still felt like he could make a difference, or at the very least that he owed it to the world to try. He knew, just as he had stood in her shoes years ago, that nothing would be able to stop her if she had made up her mind. Instead he nodded once with a grim smile.

"I'm sure you'll be just as capable as an Auror," he murmured, somehow managing to make the compliment sound almost like a condolence. She smiled lightly, but he noted that it did not reach her eyes. A silence descended on the unlikely pairing for a few moments. However, it was enough time for them both to realise that she was still, rather unnecessarily, holding onto his hand. They both seemed to step back from one another in the same graceless movement, both dropping eye contact.

"I better get going," Frank informed, coughing lightly to dissolve the tension. Alice nodded in understanding, her eyes trained on the school grounds visible through the large window.

"Same, I think Lily forgot she was meeting me after class," Alice divulged with a roll of her eyes. What was meant to be a throw away comment said from a somewhat annoyed friend caused Frank's stomach to churn uncomfortably. He opened his mouth to let the girl knew of her friend's current predicament before quickly shutting it once again. It really was not his place to say anything and honestly, he could not bring himself to voice the dreadful events of the day aloud. How could he tell her that Prince might not make it through the night? That her best friend might have committed a deplorable act and could pay the price most tragically? He couldn't. So, he simply shook himself from his stupor and took a few steps down the corridor.

"Sir?" Alice called from behind him. He paused in his step but did not turn to face her, afraid that he might feel compelled to tell her what he knew. "This too will pass," she murmured softly, obviously referring to whatever had upset him enough to punch the wall. He nodded his head, hoping she would see the gesture though only his back was turned in her direction.

 _The question was, would they pass away along with it?_

….

Rodolophus watched his brother pace the empty Slytherin common room uncomfortably. He had never seen Rabastan looking so perturbed. The younger boy was mumbling to himself incoherently, looking quite manic. He had been there when he had heard that Luna Prince had taken seriously ill and was at death's door in the Hospital Wing. Their informant had not been able to garner anymore information on the subject much to Rabastan infuriation. The third year had practically fled in terror at the expression of pure ferocity on the sixth year's face. Under any normal circumstances Rodolophus might have been impressed by the scare tactic, had he not been sure that his brother had possessed no control over his reaction.

"Rabastan, she's just a girl. We'll get you another, one with even more money," Rodolophus attempted, wincing at the glare he received in return.

"You've always been so blind," Rabastan muttered derisively, with a dismissive wave of his hand. Suddenly Rodolophus's patience was fraying, his brother's insolent words grating on his last nerve.

"Excuse me?" He demanded, trying his best to inject authority into his voice. While his tone might have at one point received some apology from the younger boy, it went largely ignored that night. Instead Rabastan stalked over towards the dwindling fire.

"She can't die," Rodolophus heard his brother mutter under his breath causing him to roll his eyes condescendingly.

"I'm telling you brother we'll find you a few witches to fuck and you'll be as right as rain," he intoned darkly, still miffed at the seemingly abrupt lack of respect given to him. He was, after all, the eldest sibling and the heir to the Lestrange fortune. It would not do for the second born to be deliberating on ideas of grandeur. Especially when he knew for certain that Rabastan barely had enough brain cells to function normally.

To his astonishment the boy turned swiftly to face Rodolophus, the dwindling fire raging to life behind him. The dramatic show of magical power stirred unease in his chest as did the narrowing of his brother's eyes. Rabastan turned his head as if to scrutinise him from a better angle.

"You were always were so cavalier Rod, so very short-sighted, but was I not worse for following you?" Rabastan questioned, his words completely lost to Rodolophus who just continued to stare in awe at the roaring fire. "I never wanted power, I never wanted glory," he spat vehemently, his hands shaking by his sides with poorly disguised rage. "I never wanted any of it," he repeated angrily. The books on the table next to him, that a languid first year had not bothered to tidy, shook at his words. Rodolophus felt fear prickle at the base of his spine as he examined the boy, now not even completely sure that he was in fact his brother. Certainly, his mannerisms were similar but Rabastan was not passionate, he was not powerful. He was a dozy boy that spent most of his time playing exploding snap in his dorm room.

"But you," Rabastan muttered accusingly in Rodolophus's direction, he gestured wildly jostling the quills that were strewn on an arm rest beside him. "You wanted everything, and like I fool I followed you," he cursed, his voice crescendoing aggressively. Rodolophus pushed his back into the armchair, trying to gain any slight distance from his brother, who was obviously suffering some sort of psychotic episode. The fear clearly painted on his face seemed to knock Rabastan from his daze. The anger slowly leaked from his eyes, replaced quickly by exhaustion.

"I'm sorry Rod," Rabastan muttered quietly, his mood shifting manically. "I think I'm just feeling a little off tonight," he murmured vacantly. Rodolophus stared at his brother, the nickname he had mentioned the only thing convincing him that is was truly Rabastan. It was unnerving how frenziedly his emotions were changing. Looking into Rabastan's eyes, the internal struggle the boy was facing was clear. He had never seen anyone look so undignified, so tortured from the inside out. It was impossible to look away.

"Rabastan," Rodolophus whispered, not trusting his voice. The raw emotion that filled the magically charged room was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He was used to long dining tables, simply to separate family from one another. He was used to extended holidays on different parts of the continent until he could barely recognise his parents. To his absent father who had followed the family tradition of having nothing to do with him until the reassurance of his Hogwarts letter had proved his potential worth. He was not used to seeing honesty, to portraying distress. For some reason the sight of his brother so hurt, forced sentiment from Rodolophus that he had never known he would feel.

"Rabastan," he repeated firmly when his brother had paid him no heed over what he was sure was a roaring internal monologue. Rabastan turned his head to stare at his brother, his dark eyes red and brimming with tears. It was clear that he was suppressing a sob. Not quite sure why, Rodolophus gestured for him to approach with a barely noticeable flick of his fingers. To his surprise Rabastan moved ungracefully towards him, collapsing at his feet and resting his head in his lap, turning his face to stare at the once again dwindling flames.

The familiarity of the gesture was slightly overwhelming for Rodolophus. Not even as a child had Rabastan behaved in such an unsophisticated manor. A massive shaky inhale from the distressed boy stirred something unsettling in Rodolophus's chest. With one pale hand he slowly reached towards his brother's head before patting his hair a few times, not at all acquainted with any method of comfort. His touch seemed to have a profound effect on his brother, for immediately he released a howl of a sob. Rodolophus was immensely glad they were the only people present in the common room.

"Oh Rod," Rabastan moaned miserably. "What will become of us?" He questioned to no one at all, his eyes still trained on the dying fire. "What had already become of me?" He breathed, his voice drenched in regret. Rodolophus said nothing, not understanding what had promoted the sudden anguish. Instead he clasped his brothers shoulder tightly, showing him that he was not alone and that, perhaps, family meant a little more than long dining tables and extended holidays.

….

 **Well here it is, I know I asked more questions than I answered with this chapter, so I hope you will all forgive me. Please please please let me know what you think, everything's getting started now and I'd love to know how everyone feels about things. It was simply getting too long, I can't go over 12000 words in one chapter again. As always, I hope everything is going well for you guys and that the time since my last update has treated you well.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello you wonderful people, here is where I insert my monthly excuse for why this chapter is so embarrassingly late! I'm sorry, I'm working weird shifts in the middle of the night, so I've been sleeping through the days. Which is not a constructive schedule for writing. Now for a major apology to all those generous people that reviewed on the last chapter. I'm sorry to say I could not respond to any of you and then I had to made the executive decision that you would prefer the chapter earlier rather than a message from little 'ole me.**

 **A little bit of business now. Some wonderful person (I've a feeling I know who) nominated me for a competition held by the Shrieking Shack Society, in the categories of Best WIP and Best Drama/Angst. The voting closes on October 22** **nd** **. And I have to admit is part of the reason I'm posting this chapter without responding to my beautiful reviewers.**

 **The link to vote is:**

The link to vote is : htt*ps:*/*docs*.*m/*forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdGm5P_*Ehq5Sjxdut6wJd71jZbh1EMQLREyDFhXlqhVfJ3VuA*/viewform

 **Just without the *s**

 **I promise to respond so much faster and better to make up for my awfulness this update. Please forgive me and still review :P**

 _"'_ _Tell them I came, and no one answered,_

 _That I kept my word,' he said._

 _Never the least stir made the listeners,_

 _Though every word he spake_

 _Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house_

 _From the one man left awake:_

 _Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,_

 _And the sound of iron on stone,_

 _And how the silence surged softly backward,_

 _When the plunging hoofs were gone."_

 _-Walter De La Mare_

 **Chapter 18**

Severus sat unmoving in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the silent hospital wing. Besides the faded candle light that glimmered from Madame Pomfrey's office he was shrouded in darkness. It must have been a cloudy night for even the moon failed to illuminate the tragic scene before him. It was well past curfew, some ungodly hour in the morning he was sure. The silence was hollowing, all that was left were his thoughts and worries. His eyes drifted once more to where Hermione lay in the bed beside him. She was still involuntarily shuddering every now and then, clawing at Severus's anxiety. She had however, managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

The Professors had one by one departed for the night, none merciless enough to make him return to the Slytherin common room. They had universally agreed to leave him in the care of Madame Pomfrey, who would not be sleeping for the night. She had however, given him space and retired to her office to which he was eternally grateful. He was in no mood for company.

Severus was sure the older matron was expecting the girl beside him to drift off in her sleep, to leave this world behind. The thought infuriated Severus, there was no doubt in his mind that their positions deserved to be switched. It was him that deserved Lily Evan's revenge, him that had merited a nasty ending to his life. Not brainy Hermione Granger, who had always been so conscious of other people's needs and feelings. The girl had been right when she had said that there was no room for comparison between their sufferings. She stirred in her sleep, her senseless murmuring returning. Severus sighed heavily, reaching out and gripping her hand to provide what little comfort he could.

"Severus," Hermione summoned, her eyes finding his in the dwindling light. Severus's breath caught, while her body was still juddering violently, there seemed to be some sanity returning to her eyes. "What happened?" She asked quietly, her voice rough from lack of use.

"There was an explosion," he muttered, his hand loosening on her fingers. To his surprise she gripped his hand tightly before he could pull away completely. "Your nerves were already fried from the Cruciatus, it's taking awhile for your magic to find balance once again," he finished, omitting the part where her life was still in jeopardy. She seemed to read him easily enough however, fear filled her brown eyes. Her grip on his hand intensified tenfold. Severus should have known that she would already have worked out how serious the situation was, even in a half-dazed state Hermione Granger was no fool. She knew these symptoms well enough, she had grown up with Neville Longbottom after all.

"Severus," Hermione implored, forcing him to look her in the eye. "How bad is it?" she demanded breathlessly, flinching from what must have been a burst of pain. Severus paused, unsure of how he should proceed. Hermione must have spotted his hesitance for she spoke again, this time with more conviction. "Remember you promised me your honesty," she reminded.

"It's not great," Severus settled upon quietly, hating how instead of breaking down at the news a fierce expression covered her face. The girl was too strong for her own good, far too accustomed to disastrous news and the act carrying on determinedly.

"Listen to me," Hermione commanded, weakly pulling him closer to where she was probed up with pillows until he was out of his chair and leaning over her. The way she clutched at him so helplessly pulled on something he had long thought dead inside of him. In that moment he could admit that Hermione Granger was not just some student that he had been encumbered with throughout their ridiculous journey to the past. She was more than that, a partner, someone he had grown unwillingly fond of throughout the last few months.

"First, you'll have to begin to control Fiendfyre, getting the sword and the basilisk is a two-man job so forget about it. Then the first one is in the Room of Requirement, it's the-," Hermione launched into her instructions before being interrupted by Severus placing one of his fingers from his free hand delicately over her mouth. She immediately stopped talking, her eyes widening in shock at his gentle touch. Severus could not believe it, after all this time she was finally telling him everything he had wanted to know. When they had first arrived in the past he would have given almost anything to know how to bring about the downfall of the Dark Lord. Now though, hearing her pouring out all her secrets so urgently, felt so immensely wrong.

"Not like this," Severus muttered, his eyes imploring her. An expression of confusion flittered across Hermione's features.

"Severus if I die then-," she attempted once more but he shook his head sharply, not accepting her words.

"Fight it Hermione, you've fought much worse. Let it give you the strength you need, fight to tell me all of this when you trust me," he beseeched passionately. Deciding then and there that loosing Hermione was just an impossibility. She knew more about being good then he ever would, it was all so natural to her. There was a reason Dumbledore had trusted her with the locations and not him. Just like Potter, she was destined to fight Tom. There was no one in the entire world that he trusted more to do just that. Perhaps he could admit that a small part of him simply did not want to lose the only person in the past that he could be honest with.

"But what if-," she entreated, a tinge of sadness settling in her pretty brown eyes.

"You won't," he replied firmly, gripping her hand just as tightly as she was his. A moment of solidarity seemed to pass between them before she nodded once, almost imperceptibly.

"Will you stay with me? Until I fall asleep?" Hermione asked, her voice little more than a whisper. The request threw Severus momentarily. He had not expected her to want his company, people seldom wanted him there when they needed comfort. He had long since recognised that he was far from a soothing presence.

"Of course," he replied shortly, settling back into the chair behind him. They both released each other gently, neither as forcefully as they might have done even a mere few weeks ago. It seemed that when the dishonesty and secrets had diminished between them, as had the tension and wickedness.

"You will try, won't you?" Severus asked after a few moments of silence. "To fight? I know you're tired. But please… just try," he continued, his voice weak with the stress of the last few hours. He did not look her in the eye, too uncomfortable with his overly familiar words. To his surprise Hermione reached out and touched his arm, which was still balanced on the bed.

"I'll try," she confirmed. "I won't go down without a fight," she added with a small smile that seemed to elude to their past lives. It was a bittersweet moment that spoke of their history in a quiet way.

"You never do," Severus replied placing his hand over hers gently. He stayed like that long after she had fallen asleep, until the harsh light of the day spilled through the windows unforgivingly. He watched as she battled each judder, each shock of pain, with the same bravery she always seemed to possess. He tried not to dwell too much on his acceptance of the friendship blossoming between them, there was nothing he could do about it at that point anyway. When they had both travelled back in time together their fates had been mingled together whether they liked it or not. That they should grow to depend on each other was not surprising, or so he tried to tell himself.

….

Sirius Black made his way to the Headmaster's office at a sedated pace. The morning light streamed through the corridors brightly, irritating his weary eyes. He had arrived back to the Gryffindor common room late the previous night. Madame Pomfrey had been hesitant to discharge him, but Sirius was perceptive enough to know that the elderly woman wanted the hospital wing as quiet as possible. He tried not to dwell too long on the thought that the teaching staff seemed to be preparing for a sudden deterioration in the heiress's health. His mind kept replaying the day before over and over before his eyes. If only he had been fast enough to protect her from the blast, if only he had not troubled her with his pestering questions, if only he had been more mindful of prying eyes. To hear the Headmaster so casually mention Prince's experience with the Cruciatus Curse had filled him with shame. He should never have pushed her, should never have exposed her to such danger.

Sirius sighed as he considered the gravity of the situation. He had spent the whole night avoiding the inquisition of his dorm mates when he had returned to the common room. For some reason he had no desire to share yesterday's events, whether out of embarrassment or sadness he was not sure. James had been especially put out at his silence, having noticed Lily's absence. Sirius shook his head at the thought of the red-head. Lily's actions had been unforgivable, how she could possibly have thought that using a spell of that calibre had been advisable Sirius would never know. She had not returned to the common room at all, or so Alice had mentioned when he had run into her on his way out. He was glad he had not seen her, unsure how he should feel towards her. When word had spread that there had been a serious accident, Sirius had gone to bed and drawn his curtains. Not even his dorm mates had dared to attempt to converse with him after.

"Black," Frank Longbottom greeted, approaching the Headmaster's office from the opposite direction. Sirius startled slightly at the sound of his voice, having been completely consumed with his own repetitive thoughts. "How's the ear?" He continued, when the gap between them was closed. Sirius simply nodded his head in acknowledgement of the Auror, in no mood to discuss his health. Frank seemed to understand, seamlessly he commanded the gargoyle to open and ascended the staircase. Sirius paused behind him, taking a deep breath. He was not sure what the meeting was about, having just been summoned from bed by Professor McGonagall, but he was sure it was not going to be pleasant. Shaking his head in quiet resignation he followed the Auror up the spiral staircase.

"Sirius?" A familiar voice called to him the moment he entered the Professors inimitable office. His head whipped around, not believing he could have possibly heard correctly.

"Mrs Potter?" Sirius asked in disbelief. Sitting in front of the Headmaster's desk, to the right, were Mister and Mrs Potter. They both sat tensely, probably having been filled in on the previous night's goings on by the Headmaster. In response Mrs Potter simply patted the seat beside her, expectantly. Hesitating slightly Sirius approached the seat, only then taking in the other occupants of the room. A drained Lily Evans sat absently in the chair furthest to the left. She seemed to watch his entrance exhaustedly, as if daring the day to give her any more hardship. Briefly Sirius felt a moment of sympathy for the girl. He was shocked to see both her parents sitting beside her. He had not even known that muggles could enter Hogwarts.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius asked the moment he had collapsed into the seat beside the Potters. He winced at the sharpness of his words.

"That's no way to greet a friend Mr Black," Euphemia scolded without any real venom. The atmosphere was much too tense to worry about formalities it seemed. Reaching out she straightened the collar of his shirt instinctively. Sirius could not help the rush of affection he felt for the woman. Aside from his friends he was pathetically unused to having people show him any kind of true warmth.

"Mrs Potter?" Sirius whined quietly so as not to be overheard. Euphemia paused in her ministrations with a sigh, her hands falling gently into her lap. Her eyes softened from their usually sardonic and playful expression as she stared at him.

"Well, since you are no longer living with your parents, the Headmaster thought it prudent to contact the people who have taken responsibility for you the last few months," Euphemia explained calmly. Sirius froze, unable to formulate any response. While it was true he had spent a lot of time at the Potters lately he had no idea that the Headmaster had begun to view his guardianship differently. Nervously he chanced a glance at Fleamont, unable to supress the thought that they might have been annoyed by the interruption to their lives. They both seemed to be examining him carefully.

"Don't read into this Son," Fleamont said, reaching behind his wife to grasp Sirius's shoulder tightly. "We're not about to abduct you just so we can have a decent Beater in the Potter line, it's just a formality," he added jokingly with a half-smile, trying to abate any worries that might have arisen regarding Sirius's autonomy. If only he knew how little Sirius cared for independence, he would have given anything to throw away the history and the scars that being a Black had cemented into his character.

"You've always been a part of the family, but we wouldn't dare to infringe on your freedom," Euphemia continued with a warm smile. Sirius felt the burden in his heart lighten significantly. It was reassuring to watch how carefully the Potters were treading around the topic of his parents. They were always tight-lipped about the subject, but just seeing them sitting beside him, showed how little they truly cared about his surname.

The sound of the Floo set Sirius on edge, his head tuned so quickly he felt it twinge defensively. He could not help the widening of his eyes as he watched Eileen Prince step elegantly out of the Fire Place in a plain muggle dress. Everyone in the room, barring Sirius and Lily stood to greet her. Fleamont stepped forward first, his hand extended.

"Eileen, it's a pleasure to see you again after all these years. So sorry it had to be under such dreadful circumstances," Fleamont murmured, his tone formal but his eyes warm. Eileen simply nodded in return, which may have seemed obnoxious were it not for the slight colouring of her cheeks. It was clear she was overwhelmed with the attention being given to her. Sirius studied her warily, noting the bags under her eyes which illustrated perfectly how sleepless her night must have been. She was clearly a stoic woman, who kept her emotions well hidden. Mr Evans stepped forward next, producing his hand to shake.

"Mrs Snape," Mr Evans said simply, his strong Northern accent leaking into even those few words. Sirius was not at all surprised that he had kept his greeting short, what on earth could the man say to make the situation better? Sirius watched as Albus approached her and gently took her aside. He watched from the corner of his eyes as they talked in hushed tones in the corner of the office. It seemed that the Headmaster was attempting to convince her of something but judging by the woman's staunch expression he sincerely doubted that he was swaying her. Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Like mother like son,_ he thought sardonically. It seemed that Severus received his stubborn side from the deceptively frail woman. After a few minutes the Headmaster returned to his place behind his desk. Mrs Snape slowly approached the only vacant seat remaining, separating Sirius from the quiet Mrs Evans, with clear trepidation. An awkward silence descended on the room once again, making the sound of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room sound impossibly loud.

"Mrs Snape," Mrs Evans murmured in greeting once Eileen had descended into the comfortable chair the Headmaster had transfigured. The muggle woman extended her hand slowly. "I don't believe we have officially met, although I dare say we have seen a good deal of your son throughout the years," she attempted, a small but genuine smile gracing her pretty face. Sirius could plainly see the echo of her daughter in her features, dainty and sweet. Not at all an accurate depiction of either fierce personality.

Sirius however, had borne witness to how kind Mrs Evans was and how attentively the woman cared for her daughter, who had essentially left her world behind at the tender age of eleven. For Eileen's part she studied the offered hand with little interest, a flicker of surprise gracing her face for barely more than a moment. Without a word she shook her hand but resisted the urge to exchange any form of pleasantries, her mouth remaining perpetually downturned.

The reoccurring silence was beginning to unsettle Sirius more than he would like to admit. Twice he watched as Fleamont opened his mouth, intent on engaging Eileen in conversation, before reconsidering. He was not one for oppressive silences, much like his son. Sirius had a vague moment of pity for James, who would undoubtably never win an argument with whoever he ended up marrying where the silent treatment was concerned.

"What are we waiting for?" Sirius whispered to Mrs Potter, feeling like a petulant child demanding his mother end a visit to a boring friend. The older woman narrowed her eyes in return, warning him to keep his patience. He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to ask once again.

Suddenly the door into the office swung open dramatically. Professor McGonagall strode into the room, followed momentarily by Severus Snape. Sirius had to do a double take when he spotted his dishevelled year mate. Although he often wore clothes that were ratty and old and had a penchant for keeping his hair greasy, there was something entirely different about him in that brief glance Sirius had caught. Gone was his long hair, replaced with a clean cut that, although was still messy seemed almost charmingly so. His uniform, which he always wore so piously was wrinkled, with his jumper missing entirely. His white shirt showed that the too thin boy that had glared at Sirius when he was a child had long since departed and in his place was left a young man.

Something fowl settled in Sirius's gut at the thought. It was never fun to witness the people you were sure would amount to nothing altering before your very eyes. There was a new confidence to Severus Snape that clawed at Sirius, itching at him to tear it apart as he had always done. Despite the exhaustion painted on his face it was clear to all that he was growing up, simply witnessing the way he held himself evidenced that fact well enough. Sirius watched as Severus hurried towards his mother, who had turned slightly in her seat at the intrusion into the room. Relief flashed across the woman's face at the sight of her son.

"I'm sorry about this, I told him to leave you out of-," Severus murmured into his mother's ear quietly, leaning down and gripping her shoulder in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. If Sirius had not been right beside the woman, he might not have even heard. His interest was piqued at the throw away comment. Was it possible that even Mrs Snape knew how little of a Prince Luna really was? Sirius shook his head, if anyone knew the truth about the enigma of a girl it was the astute woman beside him.

"Shush now," Eileen murmured with a small smile that did not reach her eyes. The light touch she placed on his hand however seemed entirely genuine. Severus gaze raised until he locked eyes with Sirius, barely registering his presence before turning towards the Headmaster. It was clear that he was more concerned with the other occupants in the room. Sirius had to suppress irritation at his abrupt dismissal, signalling that he did not even find him remotely threatening.

"Can we make this quick, I don't want to be away for long," Severus requested, his voice filled with the tension of the last few hours. Longbottom's head snapped up in the direction of the younger man at the sound of his almost disrespectful tone. The Auror held his tongue however, perhaps learning to pick his battles a little better. Albus nodded his head gently, his light blue eyes examining Severus shrewdly.

"Of course, Mr Snape, I would not dream of keeping you from Luna for any longer than was strictly necessary," Albus confirmed softly but there was a tinge of sharpness in his voice. Something piercing twisted in Sirius's gut at the mention of Luna which he devoutly tried to ignore. He noted that Severus seemed completely unbothered to be presented in front of the Headmaster in such an official capacity.

"The first thing that has to be decided is if there is a desire for legal intervention," Albus stated, his eyes perusing the occupants of the office.

"Legal Intervention?" Mrs Evans repeated in a confused tone. Obviously, Lily had failed to inform her parents of how serious the consequences of harming a Pureblood were.

"Mrs Evans, a student is critically ill. This matter could very well be taken to the Auror Department at the behest of Miss Prince's family," Professor Dumbledore explained tensely, gesturing towards the Snapes. Sirius, who had been studying the floor intently, looked up sharply when he heard the almost involuntarily snort escape Severus Snape. In fact, several people turned to study the boy.

"Oh, I'm sorry Sir, it's just peculiar to me how attempted murder is suddenly a priority in this school," Severus stated in resigned irritation. There was something about the way he shook his head and examined the Headmaster with a tired resentment that was intriguing. These were not the words of a bitter school boy but of a frustrated man. Sirius of course, recognised immediately what Severus was eluding to. His transgressions the previous year outside the Whomping Willow were not exactly forgettable.

"Mr Snape," Albus stated, his eyes narrowing. A clear warning not to veer off topic, the implied consequences would not be pleasant for anyone in the room.

"Excuse me? I think we'd like to know exactly what's going on," Mr Evans demanded, gone was his previous awkwardness and in its place a fierce anger. Sirius could not blame him, his daughter was being threatened with criminal proceedings, and he could do absolutely nothing about it. Sirius briefly considered how frustrating it must have been for the Evans, not knowing what type of world their daughter was a part of or even what sort of legal system was associated with it.

A tense moment passed as Severus locked eyes with the Headmaster, a silent challenge stirring in his eyes, just daring Albus to describe exactly what had happened on that cold night last year.

"Don't dwell on it Mr Evans, there won't be any Auror involvement," Severus stated when it was clear that the topic was not going to be expanded.

"That is not for you to decide Mr Snape," Albus corrected mildly. "Should Miss Prince return to herself then we will be need to reconvene for her opinions on the matter," he explained to Lily's fretting parents.

"There won't be any Auror involvement," Severus stated once more. Albus's eyes narrowed at the clear dismissal of his words.

"How can you be so sure," Mrs Evans questioned, her eyes wide. Sirius watched as Severus's eyes softened marginally as he studied the familiar woman. It was clear that the Slytherin was fond of her.

"Charging Lily with an attempted murder against a well-known Pureblood heiress in times such as these would be a death sentence. The case would never even reach trial. Something that I am sure Luna would not like on her conscious, whether it be deserved or not," Severus stated, before turning back to the Headmaster. "The mere offer of legal proceedings itself shows how even a stronghold such as Hogwarts is not immune to the pressures of society. Clearly there is an urgency to impress the public or Luna Prince herself," Severus explained shortly. The clarification was for the benefit of the Evans but from the way Sirius saw Mrs Snape grip her son's hand the indictment was obvious. "It is very strange to watch what happens when fools try to play around with what they think is for the Greater Good," he added, seemingly unable to help himself.

Sirius had no idea what Severus had said that could have gathered such a dramatic reaction from the Headmaster. Well, as dramatic as the put together man could be. Albus had dropped his pen to the table and his eyes had widened marginally.

"I assure you Mr Snape that all matters as grave as these, are treated in a structured manor, an individual's social standing plays no role in any disciplinary action," Albus stated clearly but even to Sirius the words sounded empty on his ears. He had to begrudgingly admit that neither Sirius's or Severus's parents had been dragged into the school that night.

Severus said nothing in reply, his previous words still hung in the air despite the Headmaster's attempt to abate the room's worries.

"So, if this matter is not to be taken outside of the castle, what is to become of the girl?" Fleamont questioned, trying to hurry the conversation forward. The tense atmosphere was becoming stifling to everyone in attendance of the meeting.

"Perhaps we should go through yesterday's events carefully to determine that," Frank answered from behind the Headmaster, his tone bland. At this everyone's gaze shifted towards Lily, whose face blanched at the very though of giving a play by play of yesterday's incident.

"Mr Black? Perhaps you could get the ball rolling?" Frank pressed, withdrawing a quill that immediately floated into the air along with a roll of parchment. It was an Auror interviewing pen that recorded everything said within a few feet of it. A talented piece of magic that Sirius had only heard of over the Wireless. Sirius hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin.

"Well," Sirius stated. "We were chatting in the classroom when the door blew off its hinges, quite simple really," he murmured, knowing full well that his brief explanation would not be enough.

"Chatting?" Albus questioned. Not daring to give the Headmaster a one worded answer Sirius hesitated once again.

"Yeah chatting, just about general things," he muttered, averting his eyes to avoid the Headmaster's suspicious gaze. He could feel his heart thump loudly in his chest, a nervous reaction only the powerful man could manage to draw from him. He could feel the Potter's examining him. They obviously could tell he was hiding something. Sirius supposed that everyone in the room had noticed, he was a notoriously terrible liar.

"Behind a locked door?" Frank insisted, his tone one of blatant disbelief.

"Perhaps Sirius is attempted to preserve this girl's virtue," Mrs Potter attempted in a tone of neutrality, perfectly naïve to the enigma that was Luna Prince. Sirius had to resist the urge to wince at her misinterpretation of the situation. If only she knew how much more interesting the things that had been occurring behind that locked door were, that the words exchanged would unnerve rather than embarrass.

"May I remind you of the conversation we had a mere night before-," Frank began, completely ignoring Mrs Potters words. He stopped abruptly when Albus raised one hand slightly. Sirius narrowed his eyes speculatively, clearly the Headmaster did not want the words that he had overheard broadcasted to the entirety of the room. Sirius turned his head away from the Headmaster, only to be locked in a gaze with Severus Snape. The fierce expression in the boy's eyes caught him by surprise, sure he had seen the Slytherin angry and irritated before but never had he seen him look so put together and severe. Sirius felt a twinge of pain in his temple and quickly broke eye contact with the boy, fearing the talents for the Mind Arts most of his house had been rumoured to possess.

"It would seem that I am merely a spectator in this game of accusations," Severus called above the heated words that had begun to be exchanged between Mr Evans and Auror Longbottom during their brief exchange. Everyone turned to watch him as he began to straighten up and remove his hand from his mother's shoulder. "I believe my time would be far more useful spent with my cousin," he added, solely meeting the eyes of the Headmaster. Albus nodded his head once before raising his hand in his famous halting gesture.

"There is still the matter of Miss Prince's healing plan," Albus began calmly, his eyes turning towards Eileen Snape.

"Another thing! Why isn't the girl in hospital if she's so deathly sick! Surely, they would be able to heal any injuries she could have gotten," Mr Evans accused, his hands erratically flying every which way as if to demonstrate the absurdity of the situation. Sirius had expected the question to crop up at some time during the conversation, he himself had been wondering why Luna remained in the care of Madame Pomfrey. He turned his eyes towards Albus, expecting a repentant expression to mar his wizened features. Instead he looked slightly contented with Mr Evans words, a fact that set Sirius slightly on edge.

"It is not up to the staff of Hogwarts to decide whether Miss Prince should be relocated, Mr Evans," Dumbledore stated, his condemning gaze settling heavily upon the Snapes. It took Sirius a few moments to work out what exactly he was implying but when he did a peculiar amount of rage settled in his gut. He turned towards Eileen Snape furiously.

"You won't have her moved? Do you want her dead?" Sirius hissed viciously.

"Sirius," Fleamont chastised from behind him, but he paid him no heed.

Fleamont had no idea how petulant the Snapes could be. He was still of the opinion that Eileen Snape was a Prince that found her way to the light and married a muggle. Sirius knew better, it only took him a moment to spot the same calculating eyes in the woman the he disliked so much in her son. The Snapes were well able to hide their emotions. It was easy for him to jump to conclusions on that premise alone. What if they had figured out that Luna was not a Prince? He had at first thought that Severus had known that she was not the Prince that everyone recognized her to be, but what if he was wrong? What if this was an opportunity for the Snapes to quietly dispose of Luna Prince. He felt his heart constrict and his blood boil at the very thought.

"Mr Evans," Severus addressed, completely ignoring Sirius's outburst much to the boy's ire. "I can assure you that St Mungo's has no cure for what ails Lady Prince," he stated, his tone holding an acuity that was ill-matched to his age. "What plagues her goes far deeper and darker than a misplaced _Bombarda Maxima_ ," He finished, a flash of grief flickering in his usually empty eyes. The truth behind the emotion forced Sirius to admit that there was a possibility, however slim, that perhaps Severus truly did care for the witch that had occupied so many of his thoughts of late.

Sirius hauntingly remembered how Luna had drawn back her shirt sleeve to display the horrid mark on her arm. She had been so vulnerable in that moment, so fierce. When he had overheard Albus and Frank discussing the relation of the Cruciatus Curse to Luna's prolonged sickness he had hardly been surprised. Nobody with a mark like that could have escaped without a few battle scars, whether they be mental or physical.

"You think you know more than the Healers now boy?" Frank scoffed, stealing the words right out of Sirius's mouth. Severus simply shook his head, not willing to fight over something that he already had the final say in.

"As I have previously stated, there will be no legal proceedings brought against Miss Evans. What happens from here on out is a family matter that has no place at a disciplinary hearing," Severus reminded. "Now if you'll excuse me I must return to the Hospital Wing," he added, not bothering to wait for a response. He turned on his heel in one fluid motion and was out the door before anyone could even think about stopping him.

A silence descended upon the room as everyone scrambled to find an appropriate exodus out of the conversation that Severus had left hanging in the air. Sirius watched as Eileen's eyes remained on the door that her son had just departed from, clearly wishing she could follow him. It was obvious the woman was uncomfortable in situations as tense and edgy as surrounded her then.

"So that means Lily is free from these preposterous charges?" Mr Evans questioned, managing to reign in his fraying temper slightly. Frank opened his mouth to reply, before hesitating and deferring to the wisdom of the Headmaster.

"If Severus's opinions on Luna's perspective are accurate then yes. However, there is still the possibility that he is mistaken and that she will, in fact, pursue legal action in the coming months," Albus answered, his tone careful. Sirius knew that tenor, the older man did not want to give false hope where there was none. "There is still of course, the matter of her punishment for casting such a dangerous curse inside the walls of Hogwarts," he added.

"He is not wrong," Eileen said confidently. It was the most that she had spoken since she had entered the room and Sirius could not help feeling a little thrown by her strong voice. He had expected it to be as meek as she looked, sitting in her muggle dress with her fretting hands. He had almost forgotten that this was the same woman that had rushed to Luna's aid all those months ago in the muggle park back in Cokeworth. "Luna will not press charges, it's not in her nature," she continued firmly. An image of Mrs Snape half carrying Luna out of the park flashed into his mind. It was easy sometimes to forget how different Luna was when he had first encountered her. How she would stare at nothing for Merlin knows how long, anger the only thing to stir her from her stupors.

"And what is in her nature?" Frank questioned, apparently before he could help himself. The question went unanswered, only a small upturn of Eileen's lips proving she had even heard the question.

"I'm sure you wish to see your niece Mrs Snape," Professor McGonagall cut in, fed up with the back and forth that seemed to be never ending. Sirius could not have been more grateful to the strict Transfiguration teacher. The conversation was beginning to suffocate him with its repetition.

"Yes," Eileen confirmed with a slight incline of her head. "I think that would be best," she continued before rising swiftly from her seat. Immediately Fleamont stood, his Pureblood manors not allowing him to allow a witch to stand by herself.

"I would accompany you Mrs Snape, if you would have me?" Fleamont requested, extending his arm slightly in her direction. Sirius had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, it had been a while since he had witnessed the formalities of Pureblood society.

"Oh yes Fleamont, with all those Potioneering friends of yours, perhaps you could chat with Madame Pomfrey and give appropriate counsel," Mrs Potter appealed, her eyes warm and gentle, as if not to frighten the woman. They seemed so naïve to Sirius, underestimating Eileen would be a grave error. She was not frail, no one related to Severus Snape could ever be frail. She was just reserved and wary.

It was then that Sirius realised why the Potters were treading so carefully, they knew why Luna was really ill. Their carefulness was testament to that fact. He appraised Fleamont and Euphemia once again, it was true they were almost parental figures in his life, but would Dumbledore have contacted them automatically? No, the Potters were involved in whatever group the Headmaster had been manufacturing over the last few months.

Sirius watched as the Potters walked Eileen out of the room with cautious steps. He could not help but feel that he was at a cattle mart in which the Headmaster was handpicking a heifer with the fattest hide. He wondered how many other people would be enlisted over the next few years, and, even more unnerving, would it only be the Headmaster that would be recruiting so diligently?

….

Hermione woke with a start her heart hammering in her chest. She had been having a nightmare, of that she was sure. What it had been about she could no longer recall. She often found those were the worst type of dreams, those that dispensed with the details and left a person solely with a smothering feeling of dread in the pit of their stomachs. She sat up slightly from where she was propped up with a few well positioned pillows that were now soaked through with sweat. The Hospital Wing was in darkness, her curtains were closed but if she were a betting woman she would say that anyone that had been in the rest of the Wing had either been sent home or was fast asleep. Only an enchanted candle on the bed side cabinet kept her surroundings illuminated.

Hermione cursed her still juddering hands that could not even reach out for her wand that lay teasingly beside the candle. Her breath caught when she heard a shoe scrapping on the stone floor. Immediately her eyes fell on the vacant chair to her right. Attempting once again to reach out and feel for an invisible enemy, she cursed when her ineffectual limb simply fell back onto the bed.

"Who's there?" Hermione hissed, daring whoever it was to show themselves. She had no time for enemies waiting in the shadows for her, she had enough that were bold enough to stand out in the full beam of the sun. She watched as the air seemed to shimmer around the chair for a moment before a cloak fell to the ground in a lump.

"Harry?" Hermione breathed in shock. The dim candle might not have been producing that much light, but she would recognise the structure of that face anywhere.

"No, it's James? I'm in your year. Friends with Sirius?" James explained, his voice little more than a whisper. Hermione felt the momentary joy at the thought of seeing her friend seep from her exhausted body cruelly. Why James had thought his association with Sirius would aid her in remembering him, she did not know. All she knew was that James Potter had used one of the Deathly Hallows to visit her in the dead of the night. She appraised him for a moment, watching as he fidgeted with his hands in a way that reminded her of her old friend. Harry had been such a shy unsuspecting child, which was what had drawn her to him when they had been younger. It made the leader he grew into exceptionally empathetic and that much easier to follow. It wasn't often in the time that she had studied James that she had seen Harry's mannerisms in him. It warmed something in her heart.

"And why are you sitting at my bedside James?" She questioned before lying back into the pillows she had been attempting to rise from. She hated how even the smallest amount of activity felt like a marathon to her.

"I…," James began but paused, at a complete loss for words. Hermione resisted the urge to smile at his uncharacteristic shyness. "Well Marlene wanted to drop off homework for you," he seemed to remember before withdrawing a few books and reaching over to place them at the end of her bed. The excuse was weak and they both knew it.

"Marlene wanted to give me homework? That doesn't sound like her," Hermione muttered, waving her hands very slightly in a gesture for him to pass up the books. She would never pass up the opportunity to read, even if she truly was at Death's door as Pomfrey was clearly predicting. She neglected to mention the fact that even if Marlene had wanted to give her homework, there was no requirement to bring it around in the middle of the night. There were just some things that seemed completely redundant to remark upon. James's eyebrows quirked at her familiar comment about the Gryffindor girl.

"She's not exactly difficult to get to know," Hermione explained with a small smile. It was true, Marlene's favourite activity was chatting. A habit that left very little to the imagination. He chucked lightly at the comment, which only seemed to display how uncomfortable he was even further.

"Well she truly did seem very anxious to get those to you," James commented, his hand waving in the direction of the pile of books that Hermione was examining. She did not have the precision nor the strength to open the heavy texts, but it was still comforting to read the covers. For a moment she assumed that James was joking about Marlene's zealous attitude but on further study of his expression it seemed he was serious. She shrugged it off as something people did in that time when people got sick.

"Why are you really here James?" Hermione posed, too tired to continue their game of cat and mouse. James stared at her for a few moments too long before heaving a massive sigh.

"I don't know," James responded half-heartedly. Hermione shook her head, knowing full well that he knew exactly why he was sat across from her. Madame Pomfrey had filled her in on the details of her accident piece by piece over the last few hours. To have said that she had been shocked by the actions of a certain redhead would be a lie, she was after all Harry's mother. The same boy that had developed such an extreme obsession with Draco Malfoy that it had almost killed the Slytherin. It was something in their blood, they could sniff out when things were not quite right. Draco Malfoy had been inaugurated into the life of a Death Eater and she had been hurled back in time. There was plenty of room in her situation to tickle the goosebumps of any truly observant individual.

"The blast… it's not the cause of all this," Hermione stated mildly, gesturing with a juddering hand over her whole frame. It was curiously easy to feel pity for James, a boy that had known nothing but happy times during his years at Hogwarts. The next year, if the Dark Lord was not stopped, he would see all that comfort and familiarity stripped away from him. At least Harry, Ron and she had been well accustomed to manoeuvring through the corrupt Wizarding World.

"How can you say that? She cast a curse that could easily take out an entire room," James muttered, his tone filled with tired frustration. Hermione was forced to wonder how long he had been sat by her bedside pondering the reasons behind Lily Evans' actions.

"A curse that I hear she was unfamiliar with-," Hermione attempted to appease.

"What of it? She's one of the smartest people in our year and she just casts something like that with no study whatsoever," James re-joined quickly. Hermione gave pause, she had not realised that the boy was having trouble reconciling Lily's intelligence with her careless wand waving. She had not realised the trust had been fraying between the pair. It hurt the idealised vision she had been maintaining of the late parents of her friend.

"James, not everyone can be perfect all of the time-," she interjected into his rambling but was quickly cut off.

"Why do you defend her? She could have killed you," James claimed loudly, his voice shaking with its barely contained anger. Hermione however, could see the unshed tears of frustration glossing over his hazel eyes. She had to resist the urge to disclose to the him that she was not yet out of the woods, that her health had not returned and could take a sudden turn at any moment.

"I believe the reason I _defend_ her, as you so put it, is for the same reason that you are sat here in the middle of the night at the bedside of a girl you hardly know," Hermione answered, not letting her voice rise in volume to match his. She knew he was not really anger with her, but at the situation. Everything he thought he knew about the predictability of people had been crushed the second that curse had left Lily Evans wand.

"And why am I here then?" James demanded, rising from his chair in an attempt dispel some of the irritation threatening to overcome him. She sighed as she watched him run a hand through his unruly raven coloured hair.

"That's something you'll have to figure out for yourself James," Hermione responded weakly, the little energy she had vanishing completely. She closed her eyes for a moment to try and rid herself of the dizzying feeling. When she opened them again James was sitting calmly in the chair beside her, his clock neatly folded on his lap. It unnerved her more than she would like to admit that she must have dozed off for a few moments. Losing time was something every person, magical or not, feared greatly.

"I should probably go," James muttered lowly. It was then that Hermione noticed the flickers of light streaming through the gaps in the curtains surrounding her bed. It must have been later, or earlier, then she had first thought. She nodded weakly, an action that was lost in the unnatural shaking of her body. He stood slowly moved towards the curtains in one long stride. It was then, as he was leaving that Hermione felt compelled to speak.

"This would have happened eventually James, I was not well when I arrived at this school. The Wizarding World isn't exactly known for its gentleness," she mumbled, a little incoherently. For some reason in that moment, she was sure that he knew exactly why she was truly sick. He knew that her prolonged stay at the Hospital Wing had little to do with Lily Evans foolish wand waving. Sure, it had been a catalyst but not the root cause. "I would have been hurt one way or another," she added morosely.

"It should have been _another_ ," James responded dejectedly. Suddenly he approached her bed, much to her confusion. Slowly he reached out and started to remove the books he had placed on her lap what felt like a few seconds ago. "I'm sorry I should have moved these ages ago," he apologised weakly. Hermione knew he had been much too preoccupied about the events of the last few days to think of little else, especially something as trivial as a few awkwardly placed books. Something caught her eye, stirring her drifting attention.

"The book," Hermione muttered breathlessly, her eyes immediately seeking out the dark leather cover. "The one at the bottom of the pile," she requested to a bemused James who had frozen at the tone of her voice. Immediately he fished out the heavy tome for her benefit. _Time's Bane_ was engraved in gold writing into the aged leather. Had Marlene managed to get the book hidden at the bottom of her truck mixed up with her text books? Hermione felt her pulse quicken at the thought of the Gryffindor girl routing through her stuff.

"Well I better head up to the common room, classes start soon," James mumbled, placing all the other books on the bedside table. An idea flickered across Hermione's mind.

"Do you speak Latin James?" Hermione posed, somewhat randomly. He quirked a single eyebrow in response.

"Is that not a torture all of us Purebloods have to go through?" He joked weakly. Hermione ignored the feeling of guilt that encroached slightly on her conscience at her dismissal of her cover story, but she just could not help herself.

"Not me," Hermione muttered simply. "You wouldn't be able to translate a little for me, would you?" She asked with bated breath, to which he replied with a simple nod of his head. "Per quod cognitio quae est per fani antiquissimi et nobilissimi Black Famila?" She recited the scrawled Latin she had once seen written in the heavy tome. She had not yet undertaken the painful task of attempting to translate the dead language while simultaneously trying not to arouse the curiosity of those around her. To her surprise James scoffed at her words.

"You're joking right?" He asked, when she had finished. She shrugged awkwardly, not understanding where he had found amusement in the phrase. "You must have had a fairly… unusual Pureblood upbringing," he commented, eyeing her suspiciously. Hermione barely supressed a shudder at his perceptive words. "That phrasing is usually found after research pieces, a disclaimer that the writer has added showing the reader from where he has based his work. In your case the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," he explained carefully and for a brief moment Hermione was able to glimpse the heir to the Potter Household, not the arrant Marauder. "The writer is usually invited into the family library to read a few judiciously selected books and in return the Family get partial credit for the piece as well as an original copy," he continued. "Something that most of us are taught at an early age," he finished, with a small smile that seemed to highlight his scepticism.

"Perhaps I had just forgotten," Hermione muttered, hoping he would leave the topic well enough alone. He smiled for a moment before nodding his head and heading out through the curtains. Hermione felt tremendously relieved at his absence. James Potter was far too like her old friend for her to ever create a unique relationship with him. A mere glance at him set her on edge for hours.

Hermione turned slightly in her bed, forgetting entirely about the heavy tome that James had placed in the middle of the bed. The book tumbled to the floor nosily, the loud sound jarring her nerves crudely. She cursed and waited for Pomfrey to fly through the curtains demanding an explanation for the interruption to her sleep. When a few minutes passed, and she heard no sound she began to consider the possibility that James had cast a silencing charm around her bed so that they would not be disturbed, or indeed himself caught for being out of bounds so late at night. She turned her head with a wince to see if the books thick pages had escaped their binding. They had not, instead the book had landed open on a familiar page.

 _The Lover's Anguish_

The beautiful calligraphy described the spell that she had previously overlooked in minimal detail.

 _This enchantment, perhaps the most heinous of all outlined in this book, allows the spellcaster to relive a lifetime with their recently departed loved one…_

Hermione scoffed at the naivety of the writer, Gaunt had no clue what time travel truly entailed. She had been immature to consider the heavy text as anything other than kindling for the fire place. Nevertheless, some small text highlighted by the moonlight spun her interest. Jotted in the very bottom corner of the page, which she had missed earlier, was a small message. Her breath caught when her muddled mind managed to comprehend the missive.

 _Per quod cognitio quae est per fani antiquissimi et nobilissimi Lestrange Famila_

…..

Rodolophus Lestrange watched his brother from the corner of his eye as he pretended to work on a Herbology essay that was not due for another week. It was that time of day that one could not call late or earlier. Those empty few hours of the morning that were designed to be slept through soundly. Rodolophus would have given anything to be one of those individuals in Morpheus's grip, but his brother's strange actions made sleep completely elusive. Rabastan paced the common room, paying his brother's attentions little to no heed. He had been mumbling to himself for some time, nothing compressible, but in a steady rhythm that unnerved Rodolophus. Not for the first time that week, he questioned his brother's grip on reality.

Rabastan had not attended any of his classes that day, claiming a bout of illness when the Professor's had questioned him. They had hardly believed him, half the castle thought him to be infatuated with the ailing Prince girl. Just that morning Rodolophus had overheard a few Slytherin fourth year girls comment about how romantic Rabastan was for worrying about the girl. For his part, Rodolophus was beginning to doubt the depths of Rabastan's affections. His attitude seemed more obsessive than compassionate, more crazed than adoring.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to catch a few hours of sleep?" Rodolophus questioned tentatively, his words falling on deaf ears. Rabastan did not even pause in his pacing to acknowledge he had spoken.

Rodolophus shook his head before returning his gaze fully towards his Herbology assignment. It seemed as If he would be in for another long night. He had not caught a single minute of sleep the night before either. It had taken hours to calm his brother enough to sit, not to mind rest. He was just about to throw in the cards and attempt to catch a few hours on the hard study table before a loud noise disrupted him. He shot out of his seat as white mist began to swirl into the dim room. He might have assumed that Peeves was playing a nasty trick, as he often did to wayward Slytherins, if it weren't for the odd feeling that seemed to rise in his chest.

Rodolophus chanced a brief glance at his brother, expecting him to be just as thrown by the interruption to their night. Rabastan however, stood expectantly a mere few inches from where the mist was gathering. Rodolophus watched in morbid fascination as slowly a small creature began to form from the ethereal haze. Having never seen a Corporal Patronus before, a feeling of utter awe descended upon him as he watched what appeared to be an otter spring around the room, circling Rabastan playfully before pausing in front of him.

"Well?" A muffled dark tone questioned, contrasting harshly with the virtue of the Patronus. Rodolophus placed the voice of the young Lady Prince easily enough. After imparting that brief message, the white mist began to fade before the creature disappeared altogether, leaving no evidence of its presence. Rodolophus shook his head, what reasons Lady Prince would have for contacting his brother completely eluded him. As far as he knew, they had met only briefly, and always in his presence.

Rabastan hurriedly grabbed his heavy winter robes in the corner of the common room immediately after the otter had disappeared. It took Rodolophus a full minute to realise that his brother intended on venturing out of the common room that night, so flummoxed was he by the suddenness of everything. He watched as he stowed his wand into his robe pocket carefully before heading towards the portal hole. Instinctively Rodolophus stepped into his path, blocking his exit.

"What's the rush, Rab?" Rodolophus questioned, his patience failing slightly. When Rabastan attempted to simply side-step his brother Rodolophus mirrored his actions, ready to demand an explanation.

"The Lady requests my presence," Rabastan responded taciturnly, his teeth clenched in an attempt to reign in his displeasure at Rodolophus's interruption to his plans.

"At this hour?" Rodolophus demanded, hating feeling like a parental figure.

"Rod," Rabastan warned heatedly, his eyed flashing wickedly. For a moment, Rodolophus experienced the same uncomfortable feeling he had the previous night when he had seen the fire roar behind his brother. Often, he dismissed the capabilities of his brother, enough that testing his tolerance for annoyance seemed almost like child's play.

"I'll come with you," Rodolophus attempted. To his surprise Rabastan immediately shook his head fiercely. He watched as his brother reached over and gripped his shoulder tightly.

"I'll be back soon, and then we can forget any of this happened. But for now, I have some things I need to finish," Rabastan commented a murky glint glistening in his dark eyes. Rodolophus shook his head, trying to dismiss the image of his brother looking positively lethal. He didn't attempt to stop his brother again, instead he stood frozen to the spot wondering how he had missed his brother growing into someone he did now know from Merlin. He heard the portrait door slam shut behind him before he even had the chance to wonder what business Rabastan had to 'finish' with the Prince girl. All he could do was hope he had not completely taken leave of his senses.

…..

Severus Snape hurried towards the Hospital Wing purposefully. It had been longer than he would have liked since he had last seen Hermione. With meeting Slughorn and the Headmaster his early morning had been packed with lies and confusion. He had not even had time to dwell on her recovery. The fact that she had woken up was a positive sign, though whether it was a red herring for the remainder of her ailments he was not sure. He had done precious little research into the effects of the Cruciatus in his time, a bitter irony considering how unwillingly familiar he had grown to the curse. He knew enough however, to know that there was no quick fix to what she suffered from. The tragic lives of Frank and Alice Longbottom had proved that, they had all the money in the world at their disposal and still they were never even able to recognise their own son.

Severus sighed heavily and tried to push the negative thoughts out of his mind. He had enough troubles as it was without wondering about what could go wrong in the future, the meeting he had just had with the Headmaster was evidence enough of that. Seeing his mother had shaken him completely. Looking back, he had been a fool to think that Dumbledore would leave her out of Luna's case, especially with how difficult he was being about her treatment. He just hoped she was strong enough to refrain from spilling his secrets to the occupants of the office, half of which he had noticed doubled as Order Members.

Lily had looked so pale and fraught with guilt when he had chanced a glimpse in her direction. Severus could not decide how to feel about her actions. On one hand her instincts had been correct, there was something odd about Luna Prince. However, her actions were so reminiscent of a certain green-eyed Potter that it had sent him reeling. Perhaps the boy had been more like his mother than he had originally thought. It had been so easy to immortalise the sweet girl he had met all those years ago in a park in Cokeworth of all places. How quickly he had dismissed any faults she may have had when he had found her lying on the cold hard ground in Godric's Hollows. Just the thought of that night sent a shiver up his spine.

Hermione should never have been in a position to get hurt in the first place. Severus bitterly remembered Sirius Black's part in the incident. From what he'd gathered, from the brief glance into the boy's mind he had endeavoured in front of the Headmaster, Black was growing suspicious of the validity of Hermione's claim to the Prince Household. Severus had suspected those uncertainties would arise eventually, he had however, counted on them having more time before they had to deal with them. Or at the very least that they would have had the opportunity to take what they needed from Hogwarts to bring about the defeat of the Dark Lord before they would even have to consider the possibility of fleeing.

In any case Severus was surprised that Hermione had not told him of the eyebrows she had been raising in Gryffindor house. It made him wonder what else she was hiding, and whether it would be surprising him soon now that she was not able to keep things under control in her current state. He had however, glimpsed something interesting in Black's head as he had been traipsing through his thoughts. It seemed that he was beginning to care for Luna Prince, despite his reservations about the family she claimed to be bred from. Black loved the idea that she was a muggleborn masquerading around as a pureblood, it alleviated the guilt that he had been feeling about his developing feelings. Severus did not know how to feel about the unusual occurrence, he was not even sure that Black had admitted his feelings to himself. On one hand it might be useful for them to be able to manipulate him if he truly did care for Hermione, that is if she did not return those feelings. An unsettling feeling established itself in Severus's chest at the thought, which he put down to the unforeseen complication to Hermione and his plans.

Entering the Hospital Wing with his head swirling with thoughts he almost missed the frantic calls of Madame Pomfrey. Immediately his eyes sought out Hermione's bed, panic clawed at his chest when he noticed that the curtains were uncharacteristically open, and the bed empty. He watched as Madame Pomfrey fretted about the room before summoning the Headmaster's presence through the Floo system. It took a moment for Severus to be able to comprehend what was occurring around him.

"Where is she?" Severus called over the Matron's fussing. When he received no response, he shook himself from his daze and stepped forward to grab the woman by the arms to command her attention.

"Where is she," Severus hissed vehemently. The Matron shook her head, the fact that she had not stepped out of his hold was a testament to how truly shaken she was.

"I only dozed for a few minutes… I don't understand how she…," She tried to explain, her words fragmented and perplexed, as if she had been placed under a Confundus Charm.

"Madame," Severus demanded once more, his gaze imploring her to focus.

"I don't know where she is, I came out this morning and she had just vanished, wand and all," Pomfrey explained eventually, her tone exhausted. Severus immediately let go of the woman and took a few long strides towards Hermione's bed in attempt to discern any evidence that might explain her absence. All that he could spot were a few school textbooks stacked neatly on the dresser.

"There's no way she would have been able to move by herself, someone must have helped her," Madame Pomfrey explained redundantly. Severus had already pieced that fact together, his eyes darkened as he considered his list of suspects. One thing was sure, there was no way that Hermione Granger would not be back in the Hospital Wong by the end of the day. If it killed him he'd find the girl and deal with whoever decided to take it upon themselves to move her.

 **Thanks so much for reading you guys, please please please review. I'm so sorry again about not being able to get back to you all, you fantastic people!**


	19. Chapter 19

**So, this chapter's exceptionally late, and I have absolutely no excuse. For the first time in my life I've actually had time to write (besides the insane hours I've been working) and I've just not been able to. All of my writing projects have just stopped, even the original works. It's the worst case of writers block I've ever had, and I sincerely hope this chapter doesn't show it.**

 **I hope everyone had a beautiful Christmas, though it seems a lifetime ago, know that I was thinking of you.**

 **A Very big thank you to all the people who reviewed to the last chapter, a massive apology if I haven't gotten around to replying to you in as much detail as you deserve. I just figured you'd prefer if I concentrated on making this chapter extra long and juicy.**

 _"_ _And on the pedestal, these words appear:_

 _My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;_

 _Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!_

 _Nothing beside remains. Round the decay_

 _Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare_

 _The lone and level sands stretch far away."_

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

Chapter 19

Hermione pulled the white Hospital sheet down to the floor to cover her bare legs, her night gown had ridden up when she had landed on the ground. She had rolled out of bed some time ago to study the text in the old manuscript more closely. Her wand lay weakly in her hand, having summoned her Patronus mere moments ago. Her mind seemed curiously empty, normally when the pieces to her puzzles came together it was exhilarating. Back in her own time she had always had Harry and Ron, and of course they had always been just on time with all the right answers to save the day. But what if there was no day to save anymore? The idea was numbing, she almost wished she had never seen the small writing in the heavy text.

All Hermione's research had always been constructive in her own time, always served an integral purpose in the ongoing struggle between dark and light. There had never been a discovery that had ended with a full stop. She finally understood Snape's attitude. It had never mattered how they had gotten to the past, because there was no way back. There was no grand fix for her to find, she might clear up a few mysteries but that final ray of hope she had been kindling for a return to her own time was gone. _This was no fever dream._

Hermione heard the hospital wing doors open quietly from across the room, but she didn't raise her eyes from the text book in front of her. She already knew who it was. The extra pages hidden by the intricate binding were pulled out to show the two secret pages that were covered in black ink, all but for the diagram of a familiar dagger that was no longer as enigmatic as she might have assumed. It seemed completely insane to her that she had not remembered the weapon, even from a crude drawing done carelessly.

"I'm surprised Miss Granger, have you fallen mute? Not like the nosy little mudblood I knew to hold back her questions," Rabastan Lestrange's voice called, disturbing her from her thoughts. Feebly she lifted her head, glad that there were no tears in her eyes. He didn't deserve to see her so distressed. She took a moment to really study the youngest Lestrange brother, finally allowing herself to notice the smallest clues that had been lost in the last few weeks to her preoccupation and self-pity. It was cruel how much hindsight teased her. How his dark eyes seemed positively crazed rather than those of a giddy teenager. How his smirk held so much more bite than his year mates. Almost as if he had nobody to impress anymore, that his beliefs were entirely his own. She should have noticed how he had deferred from the rest of his house. How he internally mocked them with his own knowledge.

"Come now, not the silent treatment, I simply can't stand it," Rabastan commented theatrically in a booming voice. Hermione studied him, not able to comprehend how he was acting so debonair. Suddenly a white rage filled her mind, with all the effort she possessed she attempted to push herself off the ground, needing him to suffer just as she was. Instantly she collapsed painfully against the cold wall. With a strangled scream of pure fury, she kicked the book that had caused her all her strife towards the blasé Slytherin. Pathetically it didn't even reach his feet. Instead he bent down and picked up the text with a small smile on his face.

"Ah yes, poor ole Sage," Rabastan commented pausing when the door to Madame Pomfrey's quarters opened. In an instant the humour had drained from his face. Hermione barely got the chance to see the elderly woman before she was blown back into her room violently. "Back to bed, you old hag," he hissed vehemently. His wand, which she had barely seen him draw, was held expertly in his hand. With a decisive flick the door was once again shut. Hermione barely had time to process what had just happened before the large smile had returned to Rabastan's face.

"Ever the romantic," he added. It took Hermione a moment to understand that he had returned to discussing the book he held in his hands, as if they had never been interrupted. His rapid change in demeanour wholly unnerved her. For the first time she wondered if it was the best idea to summon him down for a confrontation. It had seemed like the next logical step to her, to finally conclude the mystery. "They used to call him the white sheep of the Gaunt family. Fell in love with a half-blood, became a tame scholar," he informed as calmly as if they were discussing the weather. Still she didn't respond, instead she simply stared in shock at the Slytherin. He didn't seem to mind, continuing as if he was lecturing some bland historical topic.

"The older families used to tolerate him, the weak youngest Gaunt boy. As if he was some retarded child," Rabastan muttered bitterly, obviously the sentiment was not too far from his own situation. He turned the leaves of the book, without even looking, muscle memory bringing him to the familiar page.

"If only they knew what he had been planning," Rabastan murmured as his fingers pried open the hidden pages covered in splashed black ink. "How polluted the lightest minds can turn with the right motivations," he added, more to himself than to Hermione. Suddenly he dropped the book onto the ground, the sound verberating throughout the empty hospital wing. She couldn't help the flinch that travelled down her spine at the loud noise.

"But he didn't do it," She voiced after gathering her courage, remembering Sage's pretty words. To her surprise Rabastan merely laughed at her words.

"Oh, he covered the ritual alright, but he didn't stop for the reasons you think," Rabastan condescended with a smirk. He took a few deliberate steps in her direction, forcing her to push into the cold hospital wall even further. "It wasn't the brutality of what was required that stopped poor young Sage. The pollution that is love was more than enough motivation to alter his perspective on right and wrong," he explained with dramatic hand motions. "He wouldn't have hesitated to sacrifice what was required, if only he had it," he finished, pointing one finger in her direction, daring her to ask the question.

"And what was it he was missing?" Hermione muttered, playing right into his hand.

"You hardly think anything in that book was ever about love, do you?" Rabastan questioned, pointing in the direction of the fallen text. His expression filled with annoyance, obviously peeved that she was taking so long to put two and two together. Now that she thought about it, it did seem strange that a predominantly dark text would even mention the word.

"A Lover's Anguish," she muttered to herself in confusion. Something twinkled manically in Rabastan's eyes.

"So romantic, so poetic, so very Sage," Rabastan digressed with a roll of his eyes. "The real ritual was known as _Bellator Est Perpetua_ , or for the Mudbloods in attendance 'The War that Never Ends'," he informed smugly. "It was mentioned a few times in ancient diaries of the Lestranges," he finished, taking one more step towards Hermione. She flinched when he pulled the heavy chair beside her towards him to sit directly in front of her, peering down at her sprawled useless form.

"Mab only knows how a moron like Sage managed to work out the technicalities, but his personal diaries were most informative," he continued as he reached out a boot cladded foot to kick her lifeless leg in distaste. Her skin crawled at the abrupt contact. "You really are pathetic," he muttered disgustedly. Hermione glared at him, knowing perfectly well how poorly her feverish form must have looked. "Weak too, entirely at my mercy," he threatened with a smirk. Automatically Hermione lifted her wand at his words. Before her delayed reflexes could react, her wand was out of her hand and being twiddled casually between the Slytherin's fingers. "Tut Tut Miss Granger, you'll have to try better than that," he warned. She hissed through the pain her pitiable defence had caused her.

"Much like you Miss Granger, Sage was missing any brother in arms that he truly cared enough about to bring back from the other side," Rabastan elaborated, shifting in his chair to lean down towards Hermione. Things were slowly clicking into place for her, it seemed the more hints he gave the more questions he raised.

"So Rodolophus, him too?" She whispered. Something very dark flashed in Rabastan's eyes, the fake agitated smile dropped from his face and he bared his teeth threateningly. Reaching out with the heel of his boot he rested it on the inside of her forearm which she didn't have the energy to move.

"It was supposed to be me and him," He remarked dangerously. "Everyday I imagine what he would have thought of all this, of a chance to start all over again," he continued bitterly, the heel of his boot pressing into her arm a little harder with every word he spoke. "I remember how much I used to hate him as a child. _Perfect Rodolophus_. It's amazing really what over a decade in Azkaban will do for a relationship," he confessed with a bitter smile, the weight of his boot by now making Hermione whimper in pain. Still she couldn't muster the strength to move it, she was so feeble from the night's happenings.

"Please," Hermione couldn't help just blurt out when the pain grew too much.

"Do you know what the Dark Lord does when The-Boy-Who-Lives escapes, with his mudblood bitch in tow, from right under your nose?" Rabastan asked acidically, completely ignoring Hermione's plea. Her mind just about registered that he was referring to the dreadful time she had spend in Malfoy Manor, it seemed so long ago then. Almost like it was another life.

"He skins you alive and burns whatever's left," Rabastan whispered. The haunted look in his eyes capturing Hermione's attention momentarily, until of course she heard the crack. It was so loud it filled the entire room. It took a moment for the pain to come, but when it did it crashed through her system volatilely.

Hermione screamed. She yelled for what felt like an eternity, but still the pain in her broken arm did not dissipate.

"The ritual requires a body, that of a fallen partner. Snape was my brother in arms, well or so I thought at this age. It brings you to when you first feel like you're partners," Rabastan rambled, subconsciously squeezing the arm she knew once bore the Dark Mark. "Do you want to know what else it required?" He probed, the heavy heel moving to rest on her ankle. The momentary pressure relief from her arm disappeared completely at the threat of another break.

"Please no," Hermione moaned.

"A virgin sacrifice, someone that wouldn't be alive when we were sent back. A true sacrifice," Rabastan continued, as if she was still paying attention to his words. "Mab, you should have seen how beautiful everything came together. Watching you go into the Shrieking Shack that morning, it was oh so poetic. The girl responsible for my own brother's death, about to die so that I can save him," He muttered, adding to the weight on her ankle considerably.

"No," Hermione whimpered exhaustedly.

"When I woke up in Lestrange Manor, I knew it had worked. I was so proud of myself. I bided my time until I met Snape," Rabastan continued. Hermione closed her eyes, not able to watch as he pushed her aching ankle into the cold, hard hospital wing floor. "My whole world stopped when I saw you on the platform," he offered. "You were supposed to be well and truly dead," he stated firmly. "And no Snape is dull enough to think that you could be a Prince," he scoffed, almost amused by the very idea.

"So, tell me, how long had Snape been working with the light? Has he always been? Or every morning does he just wake up and flip a coin?" Rabastan hissed. Hermione's eyes snapped open when she felt the telling pressure build on her bone. Her eyes found his immediately and a horrible thought, that his hate filled eyes would be the last things she ever saw, flittered through her mind.

"It took me a while to work out how you had gotten swept back with us," Rabastan continued, his weight lifting completely off her ankle. She hissed a sigh of relief, wondering if he had finally finished with her. Instead he used his now free leg to kick over the large open book towards her, before replacing his boot onto her tender ankle.

"Look at it," Rabastan commanded emptily.

"Please stop," Hermione moaned, her eyes once again closed tightly.

"Look at it," He yelled frenziedly before placing all his weight on the tender ligaments of her ankle. Her eyes shot open at the loud crack that emitted from her own body. She screamed so loudly, she was sure she would wake the dead. It seemed that no matter how much pain she went through in her life, including the Cruciatus Curse, she would never be numb to it. It was consuming, suffocating and endless.

"Familiar?" Rabastan's voice, cold and severe, cut through her groans of agony. Hermione had little to no idea what he was talking about. Her eyes had not even drifted towards the book, too preoccupied with the odd direction her ankle was pointing. Her nerves were on fire, not able to believe that she couldn't move a muscle. It was a relief that death might be close, she could feel the erratic beat of her heart and the cold sweat that covered her entire body. Rabastan would probably have kept her alive for hours, at least she had been sick when this had happened. Why hadn't she thought more when she had summoned him with her Patronus? She had feebly reasoned that had he really wanted her dead, he would have done something about it weeks ago.

"My moronic sister-in-law had taken to using the knife dedicated to the ritual in her little… projects. I imagine you have a nice little scar somewhere on your body," Rabastan commented, his words beginning to register in her mind. Belatedly her eyes found the illustration of the dagger that had haunted her nightmares for the past few months. Thinking of how she hadn't recognised the blade the second she had seen it seemed utterly ridiculous and completely unlike her. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear the heavy breathing of Bellatrix Lestrange as she carved the horrid word into her skin. Her eyes trailed down to her arm unbeknownst to her. Rabastan smirked when he noticed her line of sight.

"Well, let's give it a look then," he barked before dropping suddenly to his knees in front of her. With no remorse he grabbed her broken arm aggressively before pulling her night gown sleeve up harshly. The pain was growing too much for her, her vision was swimming more and more as every moment passed. With disgust she felt, more than saw, Rabastan trace the scar on her arm.

"Haunting," Rabastan murmured breathlessly.

With the last bit of energy Hermione possessed, she locked eyes with the crazed Death Eater.

"I might not make it until tomorrow Lestrange, but _nothing_ dies with me. This is so much bigger than some dark ritual, so much bigger than you and I. Voldemort is destined to fail and so are you," She spat out with as much conviction as a powerless person could inject into their words. To her surprise Rabastan smiled widely at her words.

"Voldemort _may_ be destined to fail, but I certainly am not. Not this time," He stated firmly, confusing Hermione. "And there's no way you aren't going to be seeing tomorrow, you see the two of us are going to be working very closely together in the future," Rabastan informed. "That is of course when we heal you up," he stated, almost cheerfully, as if he had not been breaking her bones mere moments ago.

Hermione opened her mouth to voice her displeasure, but instead saw only darkness.

….

Snape flung open the heavy Hospital Wing doors violently. He was absolutely livid, so preoccupied with the news he had received from Madame Pomfrey he nearly ploughed straight into his mother and Potter's parents. He froze when he took in their presence, allowing a flustered Madame Pomfrey to catch up with him. He watched as his mother's eyes widened in fear at the expression that covered his face. Try as he might he wasn't able to diminish the pure rage that was coursing through his body to protect her feelings. For the first time since he was sent to the past, he felt like a teenager, unable to hide his emotions behind his well-practiced Occlumency shields.

"Mr Snape, slow down," Snape heard Madame Pomfrey call from over his shoulder. He ignored her, knowing the woman would be useless in locating the missing girl.

"She's gone, missing, taken. I don't know," Severus explained fragmentedly, his thoughts racing. His mind kept jumping through all the possibilities. Unable to land on any that explained how she could have just disappeared into thin air. To his surprise, Fleamont Potter immediately withdrew his wand and summoned a Patronus. A fox materialised in front of him almost effortlessly.

"Albus, we have a missing student. Alert the Aurors," Fleamont commanded firmly, his voice so like his grandsons in that moment that it temporarily jostled Severus from the present. For a moment he was facing off with Harry Potter, who was demanding that he save his Godfather. A sinking feeling settled in his gut when he thought of what the Potter spawn would think of him losing the only family the boy had ever known. He quickly dismissed the feeling, needing to focus.

"Son, are you alright?" Fleamont attempted, reaching a steadying hand out to grip Snape's shoulder. Severus took a step back to avoid the contact, not at all impressed by the man that had with only a few words stirred so many memories that he never dwelled on.

"I'm not your son," Severus hissed monotonously, much too inattentive to inject any true venom into his words. Suddenly an idea flickered through his mind. "Your son," he murmured, eyeing Fleamont suspiciously. For his part, the older man seemed baffled by Severus's accusatory tone. "With Luna gone, Lily would have been off scot free," he continued with narrowed eyes.

"Mr Snape," Madame Pomfrey exclaimed aghast, obviously having pieced together his indictment.

"Now now, Mr Snape. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this," Euphemia Potter injected, trying to diffuse Snape's sudden wrath. Severus ignored her, instead eyeing Fleamont as if to challenge him. Instead the older man simply lifted his hands in an appeasing gesture. Not rising to anger like Severus had hoped.

"My son would never-," Fleamont began calmly.

"You have no idea what your son is capable of," Snape hissed, shaking his head violently to clear it. To his frustration Fleamont seemed almost sympathetic towards him, nodding his head in an understanding manor. It made him want to grab the man and shake him, so he could feel one tenth of the pure panic that was rushing through his own body.

"Why don't we go speak to him now, to abate your worries," Fleamont offered gently, gesturing in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. Snape didn't bother to respond, instead he stalked forward, intending to rip James Potter to shreds when he found him. He stopped the moment his mother's hand reached out and lightly touched him on the arm. Turning he was caught in the gaze of her concerned eyes. It hurt the child in him that had always wanted to make her happy.

"We both know that there are bigger threats to _Luna Prince's_ life than some school yard rivalry," Eileen stated. The inflection she placed on her name was lost to no one, though perhaps misconstrued by some. Snape paused, wondering how much the astute woman had put together about Hermione Granger over the last few months. He shook his head lightly and almost shrugged in response.

"It's all I have," Snape murmured emptily before hurrying down the corridor with the Potter's fast on his heels.

….

Hermione woke up groggily, her head was swimming disconcertedly. Without thinking she reached her hand over haphazardly to grab her clock off the bedside table. When her hand met only air her eyes opened in shock. Belatedly she furiously attempted to recall the last few hours, her eyes taking in a very majestic, if dusty bedroom that was completely unfamiliar. Her breathing sped up as she studied the red canopy that decorated the bed. Slowly her memory of the previous night came rushing back to her. Immediately her hands reached down to access her ankle, surprised when she felt no pain. Experimentally she moved her arm, yet still she didn't even feel a twinge of any ache.

Flinging the heavy blankets away from her, Hermione swung her legs over the side of the high luxurious bed. Trying to be as quiet as possible she stood slowly. She grimaced heavily when she noticed she was wearing an unfamiliar silk nightdress that simply screamed _Pureblood_. Slowly she took a few small steps onto the fluffy green carpet that adorned the floor. She froze suddenly and stared down at her feet in disbelief.

Hermione was walking.

Gone was the exhaustion that had sent her so close to death. Gone was the weight in her chest that threatened to gift her with her final breath. In its place was a capable, if slightly weakened body. It felt like she was simply recovering from a bad dose of the flu. She stared at herself calculatingly, wondering how on earth this could have happened. Mere hours ago, she was sure she was on her way to a grave marked with an alias's name.

Belatedly Hermione remembered Rabastan's parting words. Had he cured her? Why would he have bothered? She looked around the room, from the engraved enamel bath to the giant bay window, of which she caught a glimpse of beautiful grounds from a height. It didn't exactly seem like the dungeons one would keep a prisoner in. Finally, her eyes settled on the only door in the room. After begrudgingly rejecting the option of jumping from the window as completely insane she slowly wondered towards the door.

Hermione ran her fingers along the aged wood before pressing her ear tightly to the gap between the wood and the stone finishing. She held her breath, hoping to hear anything on the other side. To her surprise, a few notes of a slow song drifted towards her. It was a completely unfamiliar tune that sent a chill down her spine. With great care she began to ease the handle open, trying to make as little sound as she could. She paused when the door clicked but heard nothing. Getting braver she pulled the heavy door open, wincing slightly when it creaked.

Looking left and right out of the door, Hermione saw an empty corridor. She shook her head, not knowing what she had been expecting. An armoured guard? She had to start remembering that Rabastan was only one man, she had fought many more before. All she had to do was get her hands on a wand, with her health coming back to her she might be able to get the upper hand. She padded down the corridor slowly, heading towards the sound of the music, hoping to find an exit.

Hermione's bare feet creeped along the fluffy carpet hesitantly, pausing momentarily as she heard the low murmurs of someone humming along to the eerie music. Eventually she reached the end of the long corridor, where she could here the rustling of paper and, oddly enough, the cackling of a fire. She hesitated before the open door, not brave enough to peek into the room. She looked around, wondering if there was any other way out of the house. She shook her head, knowing that she was on the second story and that the only stairs in the house were must likely located in that very room. There was no way that Rabastan would have it any other way. Her free roaming of the house was a mere illusion built to give her false hope.

She braced herself, preparing to streak across the room.

"Well, don't loiter out there. I've just made a pot of tea," Rabastan's painfully familiar voice echoed into the hallway. Hermione internally cursed, furious that she had lost the upper hand. Squaring her shoulders, not willing to show the Slytherin how nervous she was, she stepped out from the shadows.

To her surprise Rabastan sat casually beside the open fire that abated the morning chill. His hands turned the pages of the broadsheet Prophet. He seemed completely enthralled by its words, not even raising his head to acknowledge her. It was such a startlingly calm image that Hermione's rushed feet stumbled slightly as she took him in. He seemed so young, almost as if he was just another teenager. Just an ordinary person taking a time out in the bright light of the morning that streamed in from the high windows surrounding the drawing room. It was staggering to see a Death Eater in an almost peaceful moment, the stillness of the room only shaken by the tune playing on the wireless. Her eyes caught sight of the stairs from the corner of the room.

Hermione watched the exit, wondering if she would be able to make it down the stairs in time. She knew it was hopeless, Rabastan wouldn't be so casual if there was even a chance that she could gain the upper hand. To her surprise he reached out to the femininely decorated tea pot and poured a cup of tea on the empty side of the table.

"It's an odd place for a drawing room, I know," he acknowledged with a self-depreciating smile, as if they were mere acquaintances meeting for afternoon tea. "Mother did not want to be locked away in the lady's chambers towards the back of the house, so she put her solar by the stairs. We'd all have to pass her by then, and tell her about our days," he muttered, almost fondly. A tinge of grief lacing his words almost imperceptibly.

"Father of course allowed it, it's a holiday home after all. It's not as if she was interfering with the manor, though I suppose even if she had wanted that he would have allowed it," Rabastan continued. His constant use of the past tense when speaking of his parents made Hermione wonder if he had not come to terms with them being in the land of the living once again. Either that or he had completely lost leave of his senses and had forgotten they were in the past altogether. Both were reasonable possibilities after last night's episode.

Rabastan pushed the tea cup towards Hermione apathetically. She stared at it vacantly for a few moments, wishing he would finally dispense with the formalities. Her eyes widened when she noticed what the tea cup had previously been hiding. Her wand lay unceremoniously on the white table cloth, almost as an afterthought. Not believing her luck she took one large step forward before reprimanding herself. Trying to remain nonchalant she moved forward slowly, attempting to appear as if she were interested in the tea he had just poured.

At the last minute she darted forward, her fingers wrapping around the familiar wood before pulling back into a defensive stance. Her face wicked with all her restrained anger from the previous night. Suspicion tickled her senses when she noticed how unconcerned Rabastan seemed with the development. He raised a single dark eyebrow while an expression of amused lamentation flittered across his face. She wondered if he really thought she was that weak? Surely, when her wand was pointed directly at him, even a mudblood girl could be seen as a threat.

"You evil, evil man," Hermione hissed, completely incensed. Her wand arm shook with her barely restrained fury. Rabastan shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive fashion that only seemed to add to Hermione's already mounting homicidal tendencies.

"Yes, about last night. I shouldn't have lost my patience," Rabastan granted flippantly.

"Lost your patience?" She repeated in a dangerous whisper. "You broke my arm," she screeched. Rabastan winced, but not at her accusation, more as if her blatant display of emotions offended his sensibilities.

"A broken arm isn't exactly major news for either of us, is it?" Rabastan muttered, with a roll of his eyes. Hermione's eyes narrowed, she was sure that the time he had spent in Azkaban had made getting an arm broken an almost pleasant excursion. She too had had many occasions that would have made the evening almost trivial in comparison. Malfoy Manor sprang easily to mind.

"That's not the point," she argued in irritation.

"Then what is the point, Miss Granger, because I'm slowly beginning to lose my patience with you once again," Rabastan murmured, having the gall to look most annoyed by her persistence.

"You tortured me," Hermione hissed. Rabastan stood suddenly, his wooden chair hitting the ground in a flash of movement. She readjusted her wand to point at his new position, a curse ready on her chapped lips.

"Don't you see, your mere presence here tortures me," He growled, the flash of mania she had seen so clear the previous night shining momentarily in his dark eyes.

"Oh yes, it must be a real pain to see the mudblood in the corridors. What if she should breath in your direction?" Hermione snarled sarcastically. "Not as if you ripped her from her home, not as if you stole her peace after years of fighting psychopaths like you," she continued hysterically.

"You killed my brother," Rabastan accused, his mouth lifting into an ugly sneer.

"By escaping his wife's torture? Would you listen to yourself? You're insane," Hermione thundered in disbelief. He threw his eyes up to the heavens, hating her words for both what they were missing and what they contained.

"You stole our second chance," Rabastan finished, his anger leeching from his eyes and in its place a detached defiance. Hermione hesitated, not sure how to respond to that accusation. Did he think that she was about to change his life so drastically in the past, could he not see that he had the upper hand? Well used to, until she had gotten her wand back.

"And how did I do that?" She demanded. He scoffed at her words.

"By merely existing," he hissed. It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes at him. He seemed surprised at her dismissive actions. "And I thought you were the smart one," he groaned condescendingly. Hermione felt a cold shiver rush down her spine, the same feeling she always got before she found out something momentous. That old feeling of being a few small connections away from the bigger picture slowly creeping up from behind.

"What?" She barked nervously.

"You were never supposed to be here Hermione Granger," he offered, stating the obvious. She shook her head, wondering if he was about to launch into the same tired fundamentalist pureblood tirade. "You don't belong in this time, you were only borrowed from another," he abridged, his hands gesturing wildly.

Hermione stayed silent for a moment, unsure where exactly Rabastan was heading with the conversation.

"This time won't be able to truly sustain itself with you in it," Rabastan remarked clearly. Hermione paused, before the doubt began to seep into her mind.

"Sustain itself?" She repeated distrustfully.

"We won't prosper here. Nothing we do will change the overall outcome, not when there's something tying us to that time. Even if you died when you first landed here it would have been too late. This time knows that future because of you," He explained unrestrainedly, as if the idea had been plaguing his mind for months. "Sure, we might save a few lives here and there, but the same cataclysmic events will maintain themselves. The same prophesies will take precedence," he continued, as if his words could not be stopped now that he had started. Hermione felt bile fill her throat.

"Then Harry?" She muttered quietly, barely hearing herself over the sound of her thundering heart which reverberated around her body.

"Is still the only one that can beat the Dark Lord," Rabastan muttered bitterly. Hermione shook her head.

"How can you be so sure?" She demanded suspiciously.

"Well that was Sages train of thought, and he's been right about everything so far," He answered simply, before reaching down and picking up the heavy chair he had knocked to the floor in his rage.

"Why would that even matter to you, you were one of the Dark Lord's key enforcers," She continued, trying to find the hole in his reasoning. There must have been a trick somewhere, some Slytherin logic puzzle she simply hadn't caught onto yet. Rabastan shook his head in exasperation, it was clear this was something he thought she should have worked out for herself.

"Believe me when I say I truly supported what the Dark Lord promised. A land without people like you to sully our culture seemed like a dream to a boy who was raised as a stringent Pureblood. I still think some of his politics were… eye opening. But his methods were completely deranged for a finish," Rabastan condensed, before collapsing into his chair. Hermione scoffed.

"And I'm just supposed to believe that you suddenly want Tom dead?" She demanded sarcastically. Rabastan simply shrugged his shoulders, reaching out to pour a hot drop of tea into his cup.

"Believe what you will. A snake is meant to slither Miss Granger," Rabastan responded flippantly. "I lost everything supporting the Dark Lord, that doesn't exactly suit my agenda," he added, taking a sip of his black tea.

"And what is your agenda?" Hermione questioned mistrustfully.

"Why don't we call it, self-interested," he retorted with a small smirk. She glared at him, unamused by his glibness.

"What's the point? It's not like it matters if we've to wait for Harry to grow up," Hermione muttered, playing along with his theories before she could help herself. There was something in the way he spoke that made his thinking seem almost logical. The way he could so firmly declare them doomed while unconcernedly swirling his tea, made him seem immune to the panic that was clawing at her. His eyes locked with hers then, and something flickered there that she couldn't quite make out.

"I'm truly beginning to doubt the reports of your intelligence," Rabastan muttered derisively. Hermione positively sneered at his comment, hating being a step behind the devious Death Eater.

"Well, go on then. Regale me with whatever else Sage Gaunt has hypothesised," Hermione ordered, trying to inject an ounce of the distain Rabastan so easily added into his words. His smirk seemed to double in intensity at her words.

"How long have you been fighting alongside Severus Snape?" Rabastan questioned, seemingly out of nowhere. Hermione's eyes narrowed at the odd enquiry. She didn't answer him, instead her grip tightened on her wand. "Since you were in your teens, most likely," He concluded, not at all perturbed with her lack of participation.

"And?" She prodded.

"Oh, come now, I think you can work this out for yourself," Rabastan murmured, throwing the dregs of his tea into the blazing fire. The sudden movement set Hermione on edge. She let her mind wander, trying to work out what he could have been implying.

"Oh God," Hermione exclaimed before she could help herself, the disjointed pieces finally falling into place. Rabastan stood abruptly, looking pleased.

"No, just me," He retorted simply, his smirk stretching across his face. Slowly he took a few steps in Hermione's direction. On instinct she flicked her wand, an _Incarcerous_ clearly echoing in her mind. She watched in horror as no magic sprung from the familiar wand.

" _Incarcerous_ ," Hermione spoke aloud, hoping that she was simply drained from the last few days. When once again nothing happened, she felt dread fill her gut. Rabastan did not halt his approach, not looking at all surprised by how ineffectual she was.

"It won't work," Rabastan murmured, his eyes darkening as he approached her.

"What have you done to me?" Hermione demanded, completely appalled.

"I've fixed you," he responded, watching, as she panicked, with a cold curiosity,

"Fixed me?" She hissed, as she attempted desperately to operate a simple _Lumos_ with no success.

"A trick my brother and I figured out when we were joking around with the family magic suppression spell, made for especially rowdy children. The magic calming allows the nerves in your body to recover," He explained slowly, coming to a stop right in front of her. "It's temporary and will need to be repeated a few times if, you know, you want to live," He added, with the derision only someone born of the elite could ever hope to muster.

"This is all a trick, you're trying to get in my head," Hermione susurrated, her head swimming with all the information she had yet to process.

"Come on, I've never believed in fate, but this," Rabastan muttered, pointing between the two of them. "This is beyond the two of us. There's a reason you were in the Shrieking Shack that night. A reason why the spell dragged you back here," he murmured beseechingly.

"Stop trying to assign reason to any of this, I'm only here because your deranged sister-in-law carved a slur into my arm," Hermione rebutted, not wanting to give his words more thought than they deserved. The man had already ruined her life, he shouldn't get to mess with her mind as well.

"My father used to do that when he went muggle hunting you know, but until that night Bellatrix never touched that knife. Something called her to do it," Rabastan pressed, desperate for her to see things as he did.

"Her insanity," She interjected loudly.

"Something more," he insisted.

"You only want your brother back, the one you spent all that time in Azkaban with. This stupid young one is a poor replacement," Hermione barbed. "Your grief is clouding your view point," she snapped angrily.

"My grief had fuelled everything," Rabastan snapped, his voice losing the excited edge and gaining a defensive one.

"That time is dead, all because of you," She reproached, not caring if he was growing angrier by the second.

"The time line lives through you Hermione," Rabastan professed, the use of her first name threw her momentarily. She shook her head, trying to dislodge his ideas before they stuck. "The three of us, we can all go back to before-," Rabastan attempted.

"Please stop," Hermione tried desperately, her hands reaching up and blocking her ears.

Rabastan immediately reached out roughly and grabbed her hands, pulling them down towards her sides. He had neither the time or the patience for her emotions.

"We need to seize this opportunity. We need to go back to when you first felt you were fighting alongside Severus. Use the ritual again except switch our positions. Go back before the second war even begins," Rabastan demanded earnestly. Hermione was sure his tight grip on her arms must have hurt, but she couldn't feel it. All she could feel was the fast pace her heart was beating and the nausea that was threatening to overcome her.

"You're mad," She whispered.

…..

Severus pushed the second-year student out of the way and stalked into the Gryffindor common room hurriedly. It certainly wasn't the first time he had prowled the tower. In his time as Slytherin Head of House he had often chased wayward students, but never had he been so urgent. Never had he rushed up the stairs with such worry clawing at his mind. Hermione had been slipping away when he had last seen her, only her innate stubbornness driving Death away. It was horrifying to think of her, somewhere unfamiliar, with no one there to watch over her. She had been so delirious over the past few days, calling out for people long passed. Severus knew that he was the only thing truly anchoring her to the present, grounding her in the outlandish situation they had both found themselves. He worried that without his influence she might just drift off.

Behind him, Severus could make out the hurried footsteps of the Potters. They were probably following him to make sure he didn't kill their son, which in all honesty wasn't a far-off possibility. Whenever he thought himself above fighting with Potter the boy always managed to drag out his worst qualities. He wondered if his mother was still trailing him as well. He had no idea how the woman felt about the situation, she always kept her cards very close to her chest. He had no doubt that she loved him very much, she wouldn't be there, maintaining the suffocating lie if she didn't. Whether she was bitter at having to play along he wasn't quite so sure. He didn't even know if she had liked Hermione, though she had spent enough time around her over the long Yule break.

Without thinking Severus flicked his wand, sending the door of the sixth-year boy's dormitory reeling inwards. Before he had even crossed the threshold four wands were pointed in his direction. He ignored them all, marching over to where Potter stood in his wrinkled school uniform, wide-eyed and confused.

"Oi, I've had about enough of you for one day," Black voiced, jumping in between Severus and Potter defensively. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Severus had been stood in Albus Dumbledore's office, trying to explain how Hermione would never press charges against Lily Evans. ' _Giving her actions Pureblood justification was getting more and more difficult these days'_ Severus thought with a shake of his head.

"Mom. Dad," James questioned in disbelief, wondering what on earth his parents could have been doing there. Severus watched Sirius carefully, wondering why the boy had not told his best friend of his parents visit to the castle. It seemed Hermione Granger was having an ill effect on their friendship. He wondered if Sirius had even told James about the disciplinary hearing he had spend his morning attending.

"Hello son," Fleamont greeted, if a little weakly. It seemed the man was uncomfortable with barging in on his son's school life. A sign of a fair parent.

"What have you done?" Severus accused Potter directly, ignoring the carnage around him.

"What have I done?" Potter repeated heatedly. "I'm not the one that basically blew our door off its hinges," he continued, so like his son that Severus had to do a double take.

"Where is she?" Severus demanded, not able to let go of the feeling that Potter was involved. The tragedy of the wayward teenager hurting the only person his son ever truly considered family didn't bare thinking of. Yet still, the way Potter's eyes cast downwards momentarily lined Severus's mind with doubt.

"I don't know what you're even talking about," James responded, his tone filled with haughtiness that didn't quite gel with his facial expression.

"Is this about Luna?" Sirius interrupted. "James has nothing to do with that," he defended, like the loyal dog he was.

"Sirius, Luna Prince was taken from the hospital wing last night. Madame Pomfrey was attacked and confounded," Euphemia informed concisely. Severus watched as something dark, that looked suspiciously like worry, flashed over Black's face. "Mr Snape thought you might know where she is, though I do believe our time could be better spent informing Albus and then perhaps the Auror Department, that Patronus Fleamont sent seems wholly inadequate given the levity of the situation," she tried to reason, but Severus paid her no heed. Instead he monitored her son's face, when some undiscernible expression flickered over his face he leapt at the opportunity. Quickly he dived into his childhood enemy's mind, never when he had been this age before was he able to control his Legilimency enough to pry with so much focus. In some ways that had been a good thing, partly because he doubted he would have found anything good in the minds of the Marauders and partly because Legilimency was not a toy. One wrong move and both minds could be severely damaged.

Quickly Severus sifted through Potter's surface memories until he came upon a startling fragment. Hermione Granger lay weakly in bed, her eyes opening slowly but lacking their usual gleam of mischief. She turned slowly to look in his direction, her pale face almost glowing in the dark.

"Harry?" She asked, almost hopefully.

Severus withdrew from Potter's mind rapidly. They both stumbled backwards at the break of the connection. Without missing a beat, he raced forward, his wand pointed directly at the Gryffindor. Dismissively he waved his free hand dramatically, throwing a startled Black and Lupin into the bed posts of their respective beds with a substantial thud.

"Severus," he heard his mother cry in shock.

With one decisive flick of his wrist Potter was wandless, he looked shocked to have been bested so quickly by the Slytherin. In fact, most of the occupants of the room seemed surprised with his blatant display of power. It wasn't every day that someone managed to use wandless magic after all.

"Tell me where she is boy, or my face will be the last you ever see," Severus spat out, his wand pointed a mere few inches away from the juncture between Potter's eyes. He still seemed stunned, as if he still was trapped in the memory Severus had made him relive.

"Now, now Mr Snape," Fleamont attempted to appease. Severus didn't have to even look in the man's direction to know he was drawing his wand.

"You point that wand at me, and I swear you'll regret it," Severus snapped threateningly, never removing his eyes from the youngest Potter. "Why don't you tell your proud parents where you were last night?" He demanded savagely. Potter seemed torn, unsure of how to progress. His eyes left Severus's wand unwisely and found his father's searching gaze.

"I swear Dad, I just went to talk with her," Potter claimed, gone were his denials that he had no idea what they were talking about. He knew that he had been caught in a lie the very moment Severus had entered his mind.

"So, you did see her last night?" Euphemia asked, sounding shocked. Severus didn't blame her, he knew that the only reason they had allowed him up here was because they thought he had been acting ridiculously. It must have hurt to see their son as a grown person, who might very well have something to hide. Fleamont's silence was probably the loudest thing in the room.

"I swear, we talked for a few minutes. She was so out of it, she didn't even know who I was when I first sat down. She even fell asleep during our conversation," Potter tried to reason, to Severus's surprise there didn't seem to be a flicker of deceit hidden in his features.

"Why did you even go there?" Euphemia demanded in only the way a mother could.

"I just wanted to talk, I couldn't believe that Lily had actually done what everyone was saying. Sirius wouldn't talk about it and Lily and Alice were nowhere to be found," Potter explained, his tone filled with regret.

Severus felt confusion twist at his mind. If Potter wasn't lying, then who had taken Hermione Granger? It seemed too much of a coincidence that he had visited her, probably, a mere few minutes before she went missing. Perhaps someone had used Potter as a decoy, it wasn't as if the boy had the brains for tactical movements. Yet, his mind seemed devoid of the Imperious Curse.

"Tell me exactly what happened," Severus commanded, disrupting a conversation that had been going on between the boy and his parents as he thought. Black and Lupin were slowly gathering their bearings, time was running short.

"I chatted with her for a few minutes, that was it," Potter answered, not even adding his usual tinge of mockery into his words. He was too smart to do that around his parents.

"Nothing else Son? Even the smallest thing could help," Fleamont voiced for the first time. Potter shook his head slowly, but he frustratingly didn't meet Severus eyes. The boy was probably too nervous of the Legilimency powers he possessed.

"We talked about the explosion and Lily. She seemed-," Potter paused here, obviously struggling to find the right word. "Nice," he landed upon, surprising everyone in the room. "She even defended Lily," he added, with a shrug. "I wouldn't have done anything to her," he continued, almost as if the idea was appalling. "She was defenceless," he said, his eyes beseeching his parents to believe him. How Severus wished the mystery stopped there, but just like his son James Potter wore his heart on his sleeve. If the boy was lying, then he would know it.

"And then you just left her there?" Severus probed further.

"Well I didn't bloody think she was going to get kidnapped, did I?" Potter snapped, finally growing tired of the inquisition. "I moved the books and left," he stated in a tone that carried finality.

"The books?" Fleamont asked before Severus had the chance to. Potter shrugged dismissively at the question.

"Homework from Marlene McKinnon," He explained. "Bit strange, really, but she insisted," he added with a shrug. Severus immediately turned from Potter, he had found his answer. His eyes locked with Fleamont for a moment. An understanding seemed to pass between the two of them before the older man stepped aside, freeing a path to the door so that Severus could lead them to his next interrogation. He refused to look at his mother, too worried about what he would gleam from her familiar features.

Looking straight on he hurried out of the room and down the stairs towards the common room, intent on locating Marlene McKinnon. He was pleased to see her in the corner of the quiet room fiddling distractedly with the Wireless. Obviously, she had not heard of his and the three adults venture into the Gryffindor tower. In fact, most of the house seemed to be attending breakfast. There were only a few onlookers in the room, all younger than himself, watching the Potters and his mother anxiously. A few pretended to have been leaving anyway, just to escape what seemed like trouble brewing.

Severus knew he had to act quickly, before the Potters decided to become annoyingly moralistic on him. With two large steps he strode right up to Marlene. She of course heard his heavy footsteps, she turned carelessly, a half smile on her face. Her expression froze the second she noticed Severus, he took advantage of her distraction. Grabbing her face, he dove roughly into her mind. Memories flickered in front of his eyes at a startling pace, until he found what he was looking for. Nothing. There was a gap that simply shouted Imperious Curse. With a growl he withdrew from her mind.

Marlene was beyond shocked at the invasion. She inhaled a ragged breath the second he freed her face, as if she had not remembered she needed air during their entire encounter.

"Mr Snape," Euphemia scolded loudly, breaking the silence of the common room.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?" Marlene demanded, the second she recovered. Severus narrowed his eyes in her direction.

"Last night," Severus began harshly. "You gave books to James Potter to bring to Luna Prince," he reminded, barely holding his temper. Something flickered across Marlene's face at his words, as if they played with a distant memory she couldn't quite reach.

"So?" Marlene asked defensively. Severus shook his head, knowing it was of no use, she was only now remembering that there was something she'd forgotten, something that had played with her mind so carelessly.

"You don't remember it?" Fleamont asked, finally putting the pieces together.

"Of course, I remember," Marlene snapped nervously, clearly the crowd was beginning to unnerve her. "I was walking down the hall and then I just decided to bring her the homework," she stated, obviously trying to piece together the memory fragments in her mind. "I just decided," she repeated, panic slowly started to claw at her.

"I don't understand," Marlene murmured, a shake in her voice.

"Oh, my poor dear," Euphemia muttered in a maternal tone. The older woman took a few tentative steps forward until she was side by side with Severus. "Why don't we go for a walk, hmm?" She asked Marlene gently, reaching out an arm to the muddled girl. Severus knew that the 'walk' was going to end up in the Headmaster's office. He shook his head knowing that would have to be his next stop too. Marlene kept shaking her head as she tried to work out the puzzles that had been left in her mind. Euphemia guided the girl under her arm.

"Unforgivables at Hogwarts? What is this world coming to?" Severus heard Fleamont mutter behind him to his mother. Shaking his head, he couldn't help but echo the sentiment. Hermione Granger was missing and there was a clear line of destruction leading up to her disappearance. Either the girl had been involved in more than she had let on or this world was accelerating into darkness at a much faster pace then he could remember.

….

Albus Dumbledore paced his office furiously. It had been only a few moments since Madame Pomfrey had informed him of the Prince girl's disappearance. He had, of course, informed Alastor Moody the second he had heard. It seemed, from the violence of the departure, much more serious than the last time Luna had left the castle. Frank Longbottom sat in the corner of the room, waiting for his mentor to come through the fire place. The young Auror had not even had the chance to leave the office after the disciplinary hearing before the notice of the girl's disappearance came through.

Immediately Albus had thought that perhaps the Snapes had been behind the strange occurrence, but it simply made no logical sense. If they wanted the girl, they were entitled to withdraw her from the school at a moments notice. She couldn't have left by herself, she was by no means well enough to even walk, not to mind journey out of the castle. He had seen first hand how badly she suffered as a result of the events of the beginning of the summer.

Albus was relieved when the fireplace roared in admittance before Auror Moody stepped heavily into the office. The sooner the Auror Department was involved the easier it would be if some Pureblood family started to ask questions, especially if the story leaked to the Prophet. Luna Prince was, oddly, a target of both sides of the blood war, and it seemed recently the transition from target to martyrdom was unnervingly fast. It just begged to question which side were playing the villains in this case. Albus just hoped that the school didn't lose any students, the Matron being attacked wasn't exactly the swell of confidence his muggleborn students were hoping for.

"This better be good Albus, you pulled me away from a very interesting interrogation," Moody muttered while surreptitiously wiping his left hand onto his heavy over coat. Albus tried not to notice the few specks of blood that dotted his knuckles, sometimes his observational skills were more of a hindrance in the trust department. There was no doubt that they both had exceedingly different approaches to dealing with the upcoming war.

"The Prince girl has gone missing, kidnapped we believe," Albus stated frankly. He watched as a vague shadow of interest flickered across Moody's wrinkled face.

"This anything to do with the incident with that muggleborn you were telling me about earlier?" Moody posed, with a raised eyebrow.

"It doesn't seem likely. I haven't checked the scene of the apparent crime yet, I assumed you'd want to see it all untarnished for the first time with myself? Two minds are better than one," Albus abridged quickly, already making his way towards the door purposefully.

"Am I here in an official capacity Albus?" Moody questioned, not moving from his spot. Albus paused, having half expected that the question would veer its ugly head at some point.

"Well you are an Auror, and this is a crime," Albus responded, he had never been good at playing ignorant. It wasn't compliant with his innate boastful nature, that fed off dramatics and praise.

"If this is official, this I'll need a paper trial and I'll need to bring someone else in on this, a partner," Moody stated clearly. Albus sighed, not liking where the conversation was going.

"Can't Frank-," He began.

"No, he's too close to this. If this is ever picked apart in court, they'll say he had bias," Moody cut across, staring at the Hogwarts Teacher/Auror that had been suspiciously quiet since he had arrived. ' _And they would be right_ ,' Albus thought with a sigh.

"There will have to be interviews, interrogations, proper evidence collection…," Moody listed much to Albus's chagrin.

"Then so be it," Albus responded quietly.

"Are you sure you're prepared for this?" Moody questioned warily, knowing just how much an investigation like this could make things tear apart at the seams. Albus paused a minute, though he already knew his answer.

"I'm afraid it's too late to cover this up and it's not worth the risk that in a few months people start prying," Albus admitted with a sigh. He knew just how dangerous it was for a light to be shone on Hogwarts at that time. With him as head of the Order, Headmaster and his involvement in the government there were plenty of secrets that could be spun by his opposition.

"Then let's not delay," Frank cut in, finally finding his voice, though there was a suspiciously croaky sound to it.

…

Rodolophus followed his classmates down the winding staircase towards the common room. They had all been summoned for a roll call by the Deputy Headmistress and Slughorn, mystifying most of Slytherin house. He wished he could feel so clueless about the situation, unfortunately he did not have that luxury. He could feel the nerves begin to take hold of his gut every step he drew nearer. His bother had not yet returned to the Dungeons yet and whispers of the Prince girl's disappearance had been circulating. All morning classes had even been cancelled, adding to the already sombre atmosphere.

' _Come on Rab_ ,' Rodolophus couldn't help but plead internally. His stomach dropped when his younger brother was no where to be seen in the busy common room. What was he to do? Lie directly to the Headmistress? She would surely notice and demand to see Rabastan for herself. Still, he couldn't just sell out his brother, especially to a Gryffindor.

"Arrange yourself in order of your year. If we work quickly, this should take no time at all," Professor McGonagall commanded in her usual curt tone. Rodolophus watched as Rabastan's year mates searched the crowd, obviously not having noticed his absence until then. He wondered if he should speak up before the roll call even begun. Perhaps an early short cover story would convince the Professors that Rabastan was simply feeling sickly upstairs.

Just as Rodolophus was about to take an unsure step forward the portrait door swung open. Barely anyone in the room even noticed Rabastan stride in, too concerned with the task at hand. He looked completely unconcerned, as if he hadn't been out since an insane hour in the morning. In his hand was his beaten-up Transfiguration text book. He saluted his year mates casually, with that familiar small self-depreciating smile that he wore so well.

"It would have been nice if one of you had let me know this was on, I was stood outside class for fifteen minutes wondering where everyone was," Rabastan joked, much to the amusement of his colleagues. Rodolophus couldn't make out their replies besides a particularly loud ' _Typical Rabastan'_ the youngest Greengrass commented.

 _Typical Rabastan_ , Rodolophus repeated in his mind. To everyone else perhaps, but he could see right through his brother's façade. He could see the green grass stains that coated the ends of his sleeves, the mud that marked his usually pristine boots and the slightly messy quality of his dark hair. There was nothing typical about his brother, nothing even remotely like the slightly dull boy everyone had come to know.

Suddenly Rabastan turned slightly, locking eyes with his brother. A moment passed between the two of them, before a slight smirk crept onto the younger boy's face. He winked once, almost as if the whole situation was this big joke that only they shared. Before he could help it, a smile spread across Rodolophus's own face.

Rodolophus had no idea if Rabastan had simply been deliberately playing the clueless boy for the last number of years, or if his personality had suddenly taken a turn. Either way, it seemed the perfect cover, and he was delighted to be in the know.

…

Sirius sat on the cold stone steps of the tower sombrely, glad of the peace. He had just been at roll call a few minutes prior. It seemed with Madame Pomfrey's attack, this disappearance of Luna Prince was being taken much more seriously. He gazed out the narrow window that stared down onto the empty school grounds. Hogwarts had once been filled with such wonder, such excitement. It just seemed like recently, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, there was a darkness spreading throughout the country. A darkness that Hogwarts was not immune from. In many ways, it felt like he was losing his home.

"Hey mate," James saluted when he walked around the corner. Sirius raised one eye-brow speculatively, not understanding how James had even known he was there. Nobody really ever climbed to the top of the tower, it was a long way for an empty small landing with no comfort. "I saw you come up here," he added.

"How's everything down there?" Sirius asked, motioning vaguely to downstairs. James shrugged before taking a seat a few steps below him.

"Nobody's missing from Gryffindor anyway," James responded simply.

"I didn't think there would be," Sirius answered, before an awkward silence overtook the pair. It seemed strange, they were never ones with little to say. Yet, when Sirius really thought about it, it had been months since they had spoken about anything other than Quidditch or Hogwarts gossip. Frivolous topics that didn't require too much thought.

"That was intense earlier, with Snape," James commented, his tone unsure. Sirius noticed how he had refrained from using the Slytherin boy's nickname. It would have been out of place with the current atmosphere. "It seems like he really cares for her," he pressed when his earlier remark evoked no response. Sirius couldn't help the scoff of scepticism that escaped him.

"Probably worried that his ticket into the upper classes has up and disappeared," Sirius scorned, though he knew his own words to be untrue. Luna was no Prince and there was no way the Snapes hadn't figured that out a long time ago. What ever was motivating Snape's near manic concern was not money.

"I don't know, I've never seen him act like that. He's like a completely different person," James responded, bemusement lacing his tone. Sirius turned, staring at the back of James's head as soon as the blunt observation was out of his mouth, slightly surprised someone other than himself had come to the same conclusion. "The way he threw the two of you across the room without a wand," he continued, mystified.

"It doesn't make any sense," Sirius muttered. "We were besting him all last year, and then suddenly he's insanely powerful," he added acerbically.

"Maybe the Prince girl was teaching him over the Yule break, though a few weeks to learn all that seems a bit unbelievable," James supposed, turning on the stairs to face his friend. He seemed almost relieved that Sirius had begun to point out the oddities of the situation as well.

"Why did you really go see her?" Sirius asked before he could help himself. The question had been mulling over in his mind since the moment Snape had pried it from his best friend's mind. A flicker of shame darted across James's features.

"I just needed to know," he begun, before taking a deep breath. "I needed to know what kind of a horrible conniving person could force Lily to act the way that she did," he finished with a rueful shake of his head.

"And what did you find?" Sirius pushed. James smiled a little at the question, as if he knew something that Sirius did not.

"I found a sweet girl that was hurting," James answered honestly. "Which I assume you could have told me," he added. Sirius raised his eyebrow questioningly, unsure what the throwaway comment could have meant. "Come on Sirius, I know the two of you have been talking lately," he supplemented. Sirius opened his mouth to contest the accusation. "And that's okay. It's okay to like someone with blood like hers. Merlin knows we would never be friends if I kept up that bias," he cut in reasonably.

"I don't like her," Sirius stated firmly.

"Then what is it about her?" James asked.

"She's just messed up in weird shit that I keep finding myself in the middle of," he answered with a sigh of annoyance.

"Weird shit that you've been hiding? Even from me?" James pressed. "That seems like she's earned some respect from you," he abridged. Sirius shook his head vehemently.

"It's not like that," he fortified with irritation clear in his tone.

"Whatever it's like Pads, she's managed to work her way into your mind. Sirius Black doesn't sit up here alone. He doesn't keep secrets about how Lily Evans nearly killed him, especially from me. He doesn't sit in the back of the class and watch a girl through an entire lesson," James commented, waving his hands in his friend's direction as he spoke. Sirius looked away, having been completely unaware that he had been the object of such a thorough inspection for so long.

"And he certainly doesn't worry about some girl, like you are right now," James added, now with a full smile. "It's okay to feel something, to change a little," he commented. Sirius shook his head, not able to process what his friend was saying.

"Just make sure that you keep your friends up to date with the new Sirius Black, we don't want to fall behind," James finished, reaching out and tapping Sirius's shoe from a lower step with his hand, the most physical affection that they were comfortable with. He coughed once, to clear the awkwardness before standing and shuffling down the stairs, obviously not expecting a response.

Sirius just stared after him, uncomfortably left stewing in the harsh truths he had left in his wake.

 **Please Please Please Please review. I was really nervous about uploading this chapter.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello all, so I've finally updated. To be honest I've been feeling a little like this story hasn't got much of a following lately. I'm about 150K words in and interest has been kind of waning. That's not to say that I don't really really appreciate everyone's beautiful reviews and kind words. I've just been feeling like maybe if I start a new story then I might be able to amass a few more readers. If you have any tips AT ALL as to why this hasn't been taking off could you please please let me know in the reviews. I really want to grow as a writer as much as possible.**

 **Again, a massive thank you to my kind reviewers, you guys rock.**

 _That the Night Come_

 _SHE lived in storm and strife,_

 _Her soul had such desire_

 _For what proud death may bring_

 _That it could not endure_

 _The common good of life,_

 _But lived as 'twere a king_

 _That packed his marriage day_

 _With banneret and pennon,_

 _Trumpet and kettledrum,_

 _And the outrageous cannon,_

 _To bundle time away_

 _That the night come_

\- **W. B. Yeats**

 **Chapter 20**

Hermione supped once again from her third pot of tea of the day as she carefully turned a rather delicate page in the manuscript that sat on the table before her. It seemed the Lestrange house elves took the business of going unseen very seriously. The only way she even knew they existed was the miraculous appearance of food and the near constant supply of tea she was receiving. If it wasn't for the fact that her bedroom was also neatly arranged the second she stepped out of it in the morning, she might think that they didn't even reside in the house.

It was her fourth week in the Lestrange summer home and, true to Rabastan's word, Hermione was slowly regaining her strength. She had seen little of the wizard since their initial encounter, he returned solely to reapply her charms before disappearing back to, she presumed, Hogwarts. Her wand, completely useless of late, lay beside her on the table. Its presence brought an unfounded sense of comfort that she could hardly explain.

At first Hermione had paced the gardens restlessly in Rabastan's absence, desperate to find a way to leave the manor behind. However, the second she reached the edge of the property line she found herself transported to the manor's welcome entrance. A clever charm, that she was sure she would have outwitted if she possessed all of her powers. Eventually she began to settle in the solar, reading the literature that Rabastan had deliberately laid out for her. Quite surprisingly, the library was also unlocked. While not nearly as stocked as any official Pureblood manor home would have been, there were still a few interesting titles.

"Well, have we discovered how to create the Philosopher's stone yet?" A feminine voice called from above Hermione. She nearly dropped her tea cup in response, both at the abruptness of the noise and the subject that had been broached. Eliza Lestrange's portrait hung on the wall opposite her desk. A deliberate placement she was sure, so that the different portraits could greet Lady Rabastan when she required their assistance.

Eliza reclined on the elegant white roman couch that was in the background of the painting. She was no more than a teenager, having succumbed to dragon pox a few generations back. She was the only portrait to have greeted Hermione in her time at the holiday manor. All the other painted character's preferred to freeze whenever she walked by.

"Not quite," Hermione replied, though with a small smile, not able to bring herself to shut down conversation completely with her only companion in the big dreary house.

"That's a shame, now that would have been quite something," Eliza replied with a warm smile. "I suppose you'll have to focus on the whole time travel drama then," she joked casually after a small pause, as if she was talking of something so trivial as a gardening habit Hermione was fond of.

"I suppose," Hermione stated, a little disorientated at the change in conversation. In all the time that Eliza had been visiting her she had never once discussed the elephant in the room, why she was trapped in the house at all. She had begun to think the girl was clueless to the whole situation.

"My great grandfather decided to fill me in," Eliza remarked, somewhat bitterly. "You couldn't have mentioned it? I looked so moronic when he brought it up. All the portraits were in the know, Aunt Harriot said that even the house elves knew. It was mortifying," she finished her rant by blowing some of her long hair out of her dainty face.

"I thought you knew," Hermione settled on, pouring out more tea and trying to hide her amusement at the younger girl's behaviour. She almost reminded her of Lavender Browne.

"Like I would have been talking to you about anything else if I had known. It's bad enough being cooped up in the holiday home, not even the actual manor. I need all the gossip I can get," Eliza rambled, shifting in her seat so that she was completely reclined, with her arms behind her head. A very masculine stance that proved that Eliza had not yet been introduced to society when she had grown ill. "So, are you fated to run off with Rabastan back to the future? Let me guess, you're carrying his unborn child but you're fated to live in different times?"

Hermione nearly spewed her tea at the dramatic ideas that Eliza had managed to concoct, it seemed the girl had missed a calling to be a wireless soap author. Belatedly she wondered if the girl would be talking to her this much if she knew that she was little more than a muggleborn.

"Nothing quite so… romantic," Hermione commented, turning one of the pages in the text before her, trying to distance herself from the conversation. Suddenly the girl's presence was suffocating. The intrusive questions combined with the innocent way they were asked was unbearable.

"So, you're here to stay then?" Eliza summarised with a smile. "I'm glad, there hasn't been a teenage girl stay here for more than a few days in an absolute age," She continued, excitement beginning to enter her voice. "If you want, I can show you-," she began once more, but Hermione couldn't take it anymore.

"If Rabastan has anything to do with it I'll be leaving pretty soon," she hissed pushing the book in front of her harshly. It clattered onto the stone floor loudly, echoing throughout the large room. There was a deafening silence for a few moments of which Hermione was exceedingly grateful. She placed her head in her hands and counted to ten in a desperate attempt to real in her temper.

"I… I don't understand," Eliza said quietly, for the first time sounding exactly her age. A near prepubescent girl trying to make a friend, what had Hermione's life come to? Screaming at portraits of children, as if that would make some sort of difference.

"I'm sorry Eliza, I think I just lost myself for a moment," she attempted, her voice trembling slightly.

"It's probably because you've been sitting here all day, every day for the last month, completely alone," Eliza allowed. "I know how that can feel," she added morbidly, twisting the at the guilt that Hermione was already feeling. She shook her head, it wasn't even a person, it was a portrait, she reminded herself in earnest. "You know, I'm pretty much designed to keep secrets. I bet your head would feel a whole lot clearer if you shared some of yours," she finished, sitting up on her chair and leaning forward slightly.

Hermione sighed. What could it hurt to get someone else's perspective? The ideas had been rattling around her head for too long anyway. She was starting to lose sight of all logic as she attempted to cling to her initial reaction to Rabastan's declarations. The more she read Sage's scrawled words however, the more hope that bloomed in her chest at the idea of going back to her own time. It was idiotic, she knew, but she couldn't help it.

"The ritual that brought us here, the three of us. Severus came back too, Rabastan's… friend. It was some sort of manipulated war time ceremony. When a partner died, all you'd have to do is use this spell and you'd go back to when you first started fighting together, when you first felt like you were partners," Hermione muttered, hardly believing her own words. It all seemed so outlandish to her now.

"I imagine if it's from a book on our shelves it isn't as simple as that, right? There's always a price for something like that, a terrible one," Eliza stated solemnly, as if that was a universally known truth. Hermione almost laughed at the girl's perceptiveness.

"So, what was it? First born child? First love? Virgin heart?" Eliza conjectured, watching Hermione's expression. "Ah, Virgin blood," she commented, obviously having seen her flinch.

"Well that and this blade," Hermione continued, holding the blade up for the girl's inspection, forgoing any supposed secrecy. Rabastan had left the knife on top of his pile of 'recommended' books that Sage had left.

"Let me guess, covered in diamonds formed at just about unrepeatable lunar placements. Making that just about the only blade that works with those runes," Eliza concluded with a casual roll of her eyes. Hermione frowned slightly, shocked that the girl had predicted everything so aptly.

"Typical Dark Wizards," Eliza explained. "Some genius makes a brilliant ritual, then they limit it somehow, like not having the right diamond, or the right sacrifice," She dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"It had a phenomenal history, dating back to Ancient Egypt. How it came to be the property of the Lestrange House, and went all this time unused for any type of ritual is wild," Hermione confided, the idea that Bellatrix had been using such a remarkable instrument for such simple sadism was remarkable. She stood slowly, her entire body stiff from sitting for so long. Although she was much improved in comparison to a few weeks ago, she still had moments of weakness. Bending to pick up the book she had thrown in her temper she had to hold the edge of the table when she rose as the blood rushed to her head. She had to constantly remind herself not to rush. It was a miracle she was even alive after all.

"You'd be surprised how many secrets are hidden deep within the history of the Ancient and Most Noble families," Eliza commented, finally hinting that she was perceptive enough to know that Hermione was not a part of those so-called families. "Not all pureblood families are out for world domination Hermione, some secrets were buried for the better. I've seen all sorts of enigmas disappear from discussion in just one generation. Just like, I'm sure, no young future Lestrange will ever know about the time traveling girl that spent weeks hiding out in our rather spectacular summer home," she finished with a small smile.

Hermione couldn't find her words to respond. She knew from first-hand experience how tempting it was to want history to forget certain details. When she had talked with Harry, weeks before the final battle, they had decided it was imperative that no one knew any concrete details about the Horcruxes. What they were? How they came to be? Those were dangerous questions that opened up so many treacherous possibilities to any other troubled lonely children that came to Hogwarts.

In fact, if she had it her way, she would have erased any mention of the stupid infernal devices from any history book.

Belatedly, Hermione reached over to the original 'Time's Bane' book Rabastan had planted in the library for her. Flicking onto the page that had grabbed her attention all those weeks ago, she ran her fingers over the ink that Sage had spilled to hide its contents. Was that what the Slytherin descendant had been trying to do? Erase any trace of the ritual? The thought of using a spell that even its transcriber ruled too gruesome unsettled her. Could she really commit such an atrocity, just to get home? Could she doom all the people she had grown begrudgingly fond of over the last number of weeks, on the whim of some long dead experimentalist.

"We have to switch places in the ritual, it should bring us back to when Severus and I started working together," Hermione continued, suddenly desperate to air out her thoughts. "Rabastan had this crazy idea that if he's marked with this," here she indicated to the blade in her hand, "and then killed, he'll be able to be pulled along with us in the same faux sacrifice way I was," she finished. In her notebook Hermione had noted the different times that it seemed that Severus and her were partners, trying to pin point a time when the spell would send them. It ranged all the way from her first year, when she had worked out his potions riddle, to when he had given them the Sword of Gryffindor in the Forest of Dean. She didn't know which was worse, but the thought of being twelve again was nauseating. A dark shadow passed through Eliza's brightly painted eyes.

"I didn't realise it was you he had decided merited sacrificing," she intoned darkly, apparently not too happy with Rabastan's activities. "Is that what you want, to go back?" She asked when she had managed to clear her face of any emotions.

"I don't know, I want it to be real so bad. I think… I think I would kill to go home," Hermione admitted. "But I know I could do good here. I could save people. Whether it would last or not, I don't know," she muttered, not prepared to share Rabastan's idea that the prophecy would hold for both timelines. That James and Lily would have to face the Dark Lord three times, no matter what she did. That Harry would be doomed to be cursed, despite her best efforts. There was a painful futility to it all, the same feeling that had nearly overcome her at the battle of Hogwarts, when it seemed that there was no hope to finding the final Horcruxes.

"And what does this Snape think of everything?" Eliza asked, drawing Hermione back to the present. She nearly flinched at the mention of the man that must have been going crazy trying to find her. She had been trying to put all thoughts of him out of her head for the present. Their relationship had grown so complicated lately. Neither quite able to believe that they were simply on the same journey any longer, a friendship had formed between them before they realised it. She didn't want that to influence their decision. Snape was too tied to the past, to certain that he could right his wrongs finally. They were a part of the past to him, cemented in it, rather than travelling through it.

"He doesn't know that Rabastan even meant for this to happen, not to mind that there's a chance we could go back," Hermione confessed with a heavy sigh. She shut Sage's book gently, not able to stare at the black ink any longer.

"Well the way I see it, as long as you and Snape stay alive, you'll always be able to return to that time and make it so that you never even came to the past," Eliza surmised, her face filled with youthful puzzlement. "Or there's a chance that you didn't really start to be partners until you came to this past, in that case things get even more complicated," she continued, voicing the notions that had been flittering through Hermione's head for weeks. "In that case you'd travel back in time… back in time," she murmured, before shaking her head, completely perplexed. "My head actually aches trying to work this out," she finished.

"Tell me about it," Hermione commented, pouring the dregs of her tea back into the teapot to ease the clean up for the poor house elf that was undoubtably watching her.

"What I meant is that you can theoretically go back whenever you choose to, so long as you are both alive. Meaning that you could see this time out as long as you needed to, see if the good you do here trumps the good you'll do there," Eliza deduced, gesticulating passionately with her hands. Hermione paused for a moment, having never wondered down that line of thought. The younger girl was technically right, the ritual at the moment could be some sort of 'get out of jail free card' for if things went awry. The question was, was she willing to sacrifice her potential ticket home to try and save the people of this time, and perhaps to give a safer happier childhood to those wonderful friend she grown up with.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I might lie down for a moment," Hermione requested quietly, too many unanswered questions floating around her head to uphold her side of the conversation. Without waiting for an answer, she stumbled towards the room that she had begun to consider her own, the one that Rabastan had initially laid her down in.

….

James Potter tossed his Quidditch magazine towards the bottom of his bed. It was nearly three in the morning and he was exhausted. No matter how hard he tried, however, sleep would not find him. The last month had been exceedingly hard on everyone in the castle. The disappearance of a student, along with another student undergoing an unforgivable curse meant the enforcement of a constant Auror presence in the school. Instead of Frank Longbottom being a silent watchful eye, the rotations of Aurors seemed to confirm everyone's suspicions that things were steadily worsening outside the gates of the school.

The atmosphere of Hogwarts had completely changed. People had even sighted dementors guarding the school, not that it had been confirmed by any of the staff. James rolled his eyes. It was as if the Professors thought they were dim. All Quidditch training and matches had been cancelled and they didn't even provide an excuse.

James's eyes drifted towards his best friend who was sleeping in the bed next to his. Sirius had been trying hard to pretend that Luna's disappearance had meant next to nothing to him. Anyone who really knew him however, would see how he scanned the papers for any mention of her. They'd notice how his eyes constantly drifted towards the Slytherin table to seek out Severus Snape. They'd see that he could hardly concentrate on anything these days, how he laughed a little too loud at everyone's jokes.

Everything had changed when the papers had run with Luna's disappearance. The supposed heiress to the Prince household vanishing right under the Headmaster's nose had caused quite the stir. Even the Longbottom family grudge had been introduced as a possible explanation for her sudden departure. Every effort had been put in to stop Lily's name from leaking to the press. He couldn't imagine what would happen if it came out that she had attacked the heiress mere days before. Instead, most articles said that she had fallen suddenly ill, explaining away the fact that she had been in the hospital wing when she had been taken.

James had not yet brought himself to talk with Lily about everything that had happened. Instead, they had been avoiding any serious topic like the plague. The redhead seemed completely shocked by her actions, not quite believing that she had jump started all the chaos that resided in the castle. Only Sirius and James really knew what she had done.

Sirius, who normally had a playful enmity with Lily, seemed to have decided that completely ignoring her was the only way to completely avoid feeling anything about Luna. James had seen her try to approach Sirius on several occasions, with her infamous green eyes now decorated with exhaustion, but to no avail. It was a miracle that no one was noticing the clear change in their dynamic.

House rivalry seemed to be at an all time high. James scoffed; _rivalry_ seemed like such a blasé word for the animosity that seemed to be mounting between all of the houses. The Slytherins, who had heard smatters of Luna's attack before her disappearance had grown angry at how half-heartedly it seemed the investigation was being conducted. James could hardly blame them, what had happened to Luna wasn't fair.

More and more students were getting in trouble for openly disrespecting Frank Longbottom. Even a month later Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't sit in Defence Against the Dark Arts without some derogatory comment about him picking battles with little girls. It seemed that Luna Prince had become a sort of martyr for Slytherin house, which seemed quite ironic, given that she was a Gryffindor. Even faith in the Headmaster was dwindling, Dumbledore's every move was being watched.

Looking around the dorm room once more, making sure everyone was asleep, James pulled a small note from his pocket. Using the light from his wand he read the short missive for that felt like the thousandth time that day.

 _Hogsmeade Passage, 3._

The writing was flawless, not filled with flourishes but plain and pointed. It was so distinctive that even through they were never in the same House, he had recognised it immediately when he had found the note in his pocket. He didn't know why he had kept it; it wasn't like he was going to leave his dorm in the middle of the night to go meet Severus Snape. The last time they had spoken Snape had displayed how childish and powerless the Marauders really were. How he had spoken to James's father like they were equals and simply flicked his wrist to wave Sirius and Remus away. It had been mortifying.

It made every prank and cruel word that they had passed to Snape the last year seem so unbelievably dense. Here James was, maintaining a school yard grudge, while the Slytherin had matured and was so much in the knew with what was going on in the world outside of Hogwarts that he was having meetings with James's parents. Even Sirius seemed to be clued in to what was going on. He felt like a child listening in on the outside of everything.

Throwing heed to the wind, James rose quietly and grabbed his Quidditch jumper, boots and his invisibility cloak, planning to get changed in the common room so as not to wake any of his friends. He padded down the stone stairs as quickly as he could, well aware that it was nearly three. He didn't know why exactly, but he didn't want to be late to see Snape.

"James?" A small voice called as he made his way towards the portrait hole. Lily sat with a blanket pulled around her in the corner of the room, barely illuminated by the final embers of the fire.

"Lily? What are you doing down here?" James asked, trying not to sound as suspicious as he felt. Had Snape summoned them both? Would Lily have met with him if he did? The thought of her running into the night to find the Slytherin clawed at his heart.

"I couldn't sleep," she murmured, moving her eyes to study the fluffy rug her sock cladded feet were obscured by.

"Oh," James answered simply. A moment of silence passed between the pair as he fished for words.

"Do you hate me?" Lily eventually asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"What?" James prodded abruptly, shocked by her unexpected question.

"Sirius can't even look at me and you've barely spoken to me," she murmured. Her eyes, usually filled with passion and drive seemed curiously empty of any emotion. "Ever time I close my eyes I see her, writhing on the floor. I can still hear Sirius shouting at me to get help," she confessed, her voice betraying her exhaustion. James froze, he had had no intention of having this conversation any time soon, his mind still hadn't even managed to connect the Lily he knew to her terrible actions.

"Why? Why did you do it?" He finally asked the question he had been wondering since the night Sirius had told him what had happened.

"I don't know, I think it was instinctual. I've known there was something… unusual about Luna for months now. I'd heard snippets of her conversations with Severus, I'd even been watching them. It was like an obsession towards the end. Watching how peculiar he was with her," Lily explained darkly, her voice shaking. James could hardly stand to listen; every word was like a dagger into his heart.

"I've known Severus for as long as I can remember, he has never once mentioned he had a cousin. He's never been that careful with _anyone_ , never risen above this stupid grudge you all have for _anyone_ , never fought so hard to keep _anyone_ ," She continued, using one of her hands to slice the air to emphasis her point. James could read through the lines however, she really meant to say that he had never done any of those things for her.

"When I saw them that day in the park, I thought it was some elaborate trick. I even felt sorry for her," she admitted with a shake of her head. "But then she slowly started to inject herself into our lives, even Sirius was covering for her. When I saw him ask her out of the Great Hall that night I had to follow. When I found the door was locked, I got scared-," she tried, but James's patience was waning.

"Is that all you felt?" He demanded fiercely. She seemed startled by his intensity; a sob echoed around the common room. James had to look away to resist the temptation to comfort her, to tell her that everything was going to be okay. They needed to have this conversation.

"No," she confessed. "I was angry, angry at her for replacing me in Severus eyes. For making it so easy for him to move on from our friendship. We were always supposed to be there for each other. He was supposed to learn that being a part of that terrible hate group wasn't worth throwing away someone who cared for him. She made it so easy for him rot away in darkness," She spat furiously, dropping her head into her hands.

James shook his head, there was something so dream like about their conversation. Lily, sitting in her muggle pyjamas looking so young and vulnerable. These were the things that they never talked about, never acknowledged.

"Then what was this," he demanded, waving a hand between them. "What were we?" He repeated, his voice losing its anger.

"You mean everything to me James, I love you more than I ever knew I could love anyone. But Severus…," Lily attempted, but he couldn't stand to hear what she was about to say. Without warning James stormed out of the common room, ready to forget about the entire conversation.

…

"Hermione," a voice called through her sleepy haze. Opening her eyes hesitantly Hermione noticed that the sun had long since descended. Not quite aware of her surroundings she reached out for her wand on the cabinet beside her bed. When the familiar thrill of magic did not flitter up her spine at its touch, the last few weeks started to pour back into her mind. Her eyes snapped open wide as she searched for the person that had been calling her name, now completely alert.

Eliza Lestrange face stared at her from the small picture frame that resided on the bedside cabinet, partially obscured by a long candlestick. It was strange for Hermione to see her in such a small portrait, far too used to the girl dwelling in magnificent landscapes.

"Eliza?" She questioned blearily. The urgency in the younger girl's expression not going unnoticed.

"Get up," Eliza commanded in a rush. "The servant's souterrain is unguarded," she added, when Hermione didn't move.

"What?" She replied, not completely understanding what the girl was implying.

"Do you want out of here or not?" Eliza hissed, gesturing wildly for Hermione to hurry up. Still feeling hazy at her abrupt wake up, she grabbed the shoes and fancy-dress robes that she had found in the Lestrange wardrobes a few weeks ago when she had hunted for supplies. With wand in hand she stood and moved towards the door before shaking her head and backtracking to grab the small portrait.

"Down the stairs, and quietly," Eliza hissed. Curiously, Hermione noticed that all the portraits on the walls were completely empty of their usual occupants. She wondered fleetingly what the girl had done to distract all of the spies that Rabastan had placed so carefully around the house. Shaking her head, she dismissed the idea, as long as she got out of the house she really didn't care.

Pausing outside of the solar in which she had spent so much time, she eyed Eliza questioningly.

"Quickly," was all the frazzled girl answered. Without wasting even one second Hermione rushed into the solar and grabbed the journals of Sage's that she had been studying so carefully recently. She dismissed the ones that held no mentions of the ritual, thinking that they would just hinder her speedy exit of the Lestrange household.

"Hermione, hurry up," Eliza reminded briskly.

With the portrait and the books in hand Hermione darted down the various staircases as quietly as she could manage. Eventually they reached the dungeons, which seemed to be used solely for the purpose of storing aging wine. She shuddered at the change in temperatures. She didn't think she'd ever really overcome how uncomfortable she was with dungeons after her stay in Malfoy Manor, no matter how brief it had been.

"Stop," Eliza commanded shortly. Hermione had been holding the picture frame out from herself so that the younger girl would have no trouble directing her. "You see the bottle of Chardonnay on the bottom shelf?" she continued, pointing downwards to a dusty collection of bottles. Hermione spotted the bottle easily, even though the room was poorly lit. It was the only one that wasn't covered in a think layer of grim. In fact, it looked like it had been handled recently.

Reaching down Hermione tugged the bottle upwards, not needing Eliza to explain the obvious. She jumped backwards when a section of the shelving unit behind her sprang open to reveal a secret passage. She shook her head, the wizarding world really did love their homes to be filled with secret hidey-holes. Without any hesitation she began to head into the passage, after all, anything had to be better than being holed up in the Lestrange summer home for another long day.

"Wait Hermione," Eliza voiced before she descended into the dark path. She turned in search of an explanation for their lingering.

The beautiful painted visage of Eliza Lestrange gave her a doubting look, as if she were forgetting the obvious.

"Hermione, this is my home," she commented with a small smile. "The rest of this journey you'll have to do on your own," she finished, with a pitying look, not for the first time looking older than her years.

"Of course," Hermione replied, but there was hesitation in her tone. She seemed to always be left on her own lately. Carefully she placed Eliza's miniature portrait between two wine bottles, still facing her.

"Rabastan shouldn't be back for a few days, enough for you to get to your people," Eliza told her. "This passage will bring you out on the edge of the property, past his security enchantments around the house. The nearest village is only a two-mile walk, straight ahead," she finished. Hermione didn't even bother to comment that the layout of the countryside might very well have changed since she had last taken a stroll. Nor did she feel the need to mention that it was probably pitch-black outside at this hour. She knew that the girl had tried her best, and she couldn't have been more grateful.

Instead, she looked Eliza straight in the eye and nodded. Not able to articulate her emotions. Without a second glance Hermione descended into the dark passage, more than ready to leave the Lestrange House well behind her.

….

The passage door closed behind Hermione, rattling the bottles around the entrance nosily. A cloud of dust lifted into the air in a plume at the disruption. Eliza looked expectantly to the left where suddenly a bright light appeared. Slowly, the disillusionment charm faded and Rabastan Lestrange's grim face materialised into view.

"Well that wasn't too difficult," Eliza commented, pulling her long hair out of her eyes.

"You were supposed to convince her to do the ritual now," Rabastan responded gruffly, though not angrily. There was something curiously hollow about his tone.

"I don't see what the big deal is, let her see what the future has in store for the people here. If it's as grim as you say, she won't stick around for too long," Eliza commented, looking in distaste at the dated robes she was wearing.

"The _big deal_ as you so casually put it, is that until she decides that this time is doomed, I'll have to babysit her and Severus. Do you even now how inconvenient that's going to be? The girl practically _accios_ trouble every time she wakes up," he explained in a droll tone that didn't seem to correlate with his youthful face.

"Aw poor baby is _inconvenienced_ ," Eliza belittled with a wide smile. "How tragic," she continued. "Perhaps if you had told me that you'd murdered the girl, I might not have been so open to letting her have her way," she spat, with an eye roll. Rabastan didn't bother replying, knowing that the girl did have a point, he had tricked her.

"Now while you start erasing any sign that the girl has been here, I'm going to switch robes back with Aunt Imogen. Merlin knows she can't pull off my modern ones. And be careful, remember to memory charm the house elves, can't have dear old dad knowing what you've been up to," she ordered authoritatively.

Rabastan just shook his head, having known that enlisting the help of his long dead older sister would cause him much irritation.

"Why didn't you just let her leave yourself?" Eliza asked, as an afterthought.

"Couldn't let her think I let her have her way now, could I?" Rabastan responded with a small smirk. Eliza just shook her head, well used to the Lestrange way of thinking. He turned, intent on heading up the stairs and begrudgingly doing exactly as she had requested.

"Rabastan," Eliza's small voice whispered through the darkness. He paused, not even bothering to face her. "Did you do it? Did you mark her?" She questioned, sounding so uncharacteristically timid. A silence fell between the pair, filled with a tension neither wanted to acknowledge.

"No," Rabastan finally answered. "Of course not, Liz," he affirmed, before continuing on his way up the wooden staircase. Eliza heaved a sigh of relief, glad that even this dystopian version of her younger brother was still nothing like their father.

….

James hurried through the secret passage he was so familiar with, well aware that he was beyond late. The conversation he had just had with Lily was playing over and over again in his mind. He drove himself to walk faster so that he might have some reprieve from his thoughts. The love of his lift admitting that she still had feelings for his old school rival was something that he'd rather forget forever. He shook his head, wondering if Severus Snape even counted as a rival anymore. The boy seemed so above ever quarrelling with James anymore, that it was even slightly humiliating for the prideful Gryffindor.

"You're late," A voice called from his side. James nearly jumped out of his skin, so consumed was he in his thoughts that he nearly completely missed the Slytherin standing no more than a few yards in front of him. "And you've brought a friend… hurray," the droll voice of Severus Snape continued sarcastically. James turned behind him, not understanding what he had been talking about.

The air shimmered in the light of James's dim Lumos as the disillusionment spell fell away to reveal Sirius Black, who didn't even look sheepish at being caught in the act of snooping.

"Sorry mate, thought you might have needed backup," Sirius stated simply. The blood drained from James's face as he began to wonder if his best friend had been present throughout his conversation with his girlfriend. "Lily called me down, saying you had stalked off," he continued, abating his friend's worries.

James nearly laughed at the idea of Lily waking Sirius up, knowing that the two weren't exactly on the best of terms lately.

"It was fairly awkward," Sirius commented, apparently reading his friend's expression. "Now I see she had a good reason to worry," he finished with a glare in Severus Snape's direction. A silence descended on the unusual trio as everyone struggled to find the right words.

Snape withdrew his wand with one flick of his wrist. There was a loud clamour as the two other boys struggled to pull their wands out of their pockets at speed. The Slytherin simply eyed them with a condescending look, that seemed to make them both feel more than slightly inadequate somehow.

With two flicks of Snape's wand, directed at the seemingly bare wall to his side a beautifully engraved oak door appeared from nowhere. James and Sirius passed a look between each other in amazement.

"Please tell me you haven't been trudging through Honeydukes all this time," Snape commented, having noted their expressions. With an irritated eye-roll he didn't even bother to wait for a reply before opening and stepping though the ornate door.

James and Sirius passed a look between each other, both silently questioning whether it would be wise to follow. Sirius shook his head from side to side, obviously too suspicious of the Slytherin to follow him anywhere. James just rolled his eyes, too curious after coming all that way to stop there. Without waiting to think about it he took a big step out though the door. He heard Sirius pause briefly for a moment before cursing and following, never one to be left behind.

They both stumbled out in a heap on the cold forest floor. Looking up James watched as Severus shut the door behind them, it disappeared into nothingness in a split second. Looking around James was shocked to see that they were just outside Hogsmeade, which was scarcely illuminated in the light of the barely rising run that streamed through the trees. They seemed to be on the opposite side of town from the Shrieking Shack.

"Well," Snape said, apparently trying to real in his patience. "Stand you fools," when another moment passed of both Gryffindor boys sitting motionless in shock on the ground. "Merciful Morgana, it's like herding sheep," he murmured under his breath, but just loud enough for both of them to overhear.

"What are we doing here Snape?" Sirius demanded, rising from the ground and withdrawing his wand. The Slytherin boy simply rolled his eyes.

"I don't know what you're doing here Black," he spat acidically. "I don't recall inviting you," he stated truthfully.

"Well, what am I doing here?" James asked quietly, having finally found his voice. Here Snape paused, probably knowing he needed to provide an explanation but he seemed woefully unprepared to do so.

"Well you are going to-," here Severus paused, as if sensing that he was demanding rather than asking. "I was hoping-," he started, but halted once again. Perhaps trying to find the right tone. It seemed strange to James to watch Severus Snape struggle for words. Usually the boy was always quick to quip a comeback effortlessly.

"Just spit it out Snape," James chimed in, growing frustrated with the situation.

"I need you to come and find Luna with me," Snape stated succinctly, his eyes set firmly on the village in front of him.

"What?" A voice demanded, echoing James's thoughts. It took a moment for him to realise that it was Sirius that had spoken and not himself.

"You heard me," Snape responded coldly.

"Yeah, I'm going to need a lot more detail than that Snape," James added in disbelief. The Slytherin rolled his eyes but continued on despite his apparent irritation.

"For the last month, I've been checking out Luna's old haunts. Seeing if she shows up somewhere. But, well, she was quite sick when she left and her memories were disjointed at best," Snape explained, a distant quality in his voice. "We've not always been… on the best of terms and I'm worried that she's having some sort of break," he finished.

"So, you think she's avoiding you," Sirius concluded with a cruel smile on his face. Snape sent a glare in his direction.

"Snape if she's avoiding you, who she's the closest to, what makes you think she'll come to me if she sees me?" James asked, choosing to ignore the running commentary his friend was continuing. It was obvious to him that both men felt strongly about the girl in question, both were just too emotionally inept to show it any other way. "We've barely had a handful of conversations and must of them have been fairly angry," he continued, remembering the first few weeks that Luna had been in Hogwarts. She had destroyed the map for Merlin sake.

"She'll trust you," Snape answered simply, not meeting his eyes.

"Is this because she thinks I look like Harry?" James asked, remembering their final conversation. He watched as both Sirius and Snape tensed at the name. He hadn't been expecting his friend to react at all. James eyed him, not for the first time wondering just how close he had grown to Luna Prince without him even noticing. "Who's Harry?" he asked before he could help himself.

"Yeah Snape, do tell us who Harry is," Sirius demanded with malicious gleam in his eyes. A silence fell amongst them once again.

"Snape, Luna could barely move one arm when she disappeared. Do you seriously think that she just left of her own accord? And on top of that, she cast a strong enough Confundus on Madame Pomfrey that it took a week for the woman to come fully back to her senses. Let's not forget about poor Marlene," James asked, when it was clear that Snape wasn't going to reply, surprising even himself at how gentle his tone was.

"I don't know," Snape admitted quietly, sounding defeated. "I have no idea who'd want to take Luna, or even why they'd risk making a move inside Hogwarts when she was practically defenceless in Spinner's End for weeks," he revealed bitterly.

"Luna has a pretty dark past Snape, don't play dumb with us," Sirius accused pointedly, not willing to allow Snape to escape with so few words of explanation. Snape turned, facing the boys for the first time since he had begun the discussion. A fierce expression covered his strong features.

"Listen to me Black, I don't know what you managed to weasel from her, but Luna's enemies are in short supply," Snape stated bluntly. "Those who have hurt her, or would want to, have all gone. In case your idiot brain hasn't noticed people have been desperate to please her lately," he growled angrily.

"Yeah I'm sure that mark on her arm is from someone _desperate_ to please her," Sirius spat, a bitter inflection in his tone. Snape's expression froze at the mention of Luna's arm, obviously not expecting that detail to be so commonly known. James felt like taking a step back and letting the two men handle things on their own. "I remember what she used to be like, when she first came here. How freaked she was. How she stared at nothing for hours," Sirius hissed, his eyes filled with accusation.

"You better watch your tone boy," Snape's voice susurrated dangerously through the empty clearing.

"Boy?" Sirius repeated in disbelief. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" He demanded with venom. "You think the fact that you've managed to con people into thinking you'll be the next Head of the Prince house makes you a big man?" He continued.

"Padfoot," James felt the need to interject for some unknown reason, feeling that the conversation was devolving. Sirius turned on him with a bark of a laugh that didn't meet his eyes.

"Oh, you don't even know the half of it, James," Sirius continued, apparently unable to keep his thoughts to himself any more. "Why don't you ask Snape why a Pureblood heiress was staying in a muggle neighbourhood in the middle of nowhere with family she hardly knows," He added, a grin on his face that didn't match the slightly frenzied look in his grey eyes.

"Sirius," James repeated, he had absolutely no interest in whatever family business the Snapes had going on. His life seemed to take a downward spiral the second his eyes had fallen on the girl.

"Because she's not," Sirius responded to his own question. James paused for a moment trying to decode his friends' words. "Not a Pureblood, not an heiress and I sincerely doubt she's even related to him," he continued viciously. "I mean Gods," Sirius cursed. "It's so bloody obvious I feel like hitting everyone across the head," he added, the volume of his voice slowly lowering.

"What?" James mumbled, confusion clouding his already tired mind.

"It's a hoax, I've known for an age," Sirius confirmed, with a shake of his head. "The only think I don't know is what the end game is," he continued, eyeing Snape suspiciously. To James's surprised the Slytherin didn't even look mildly surprised that Sirius was spilling his secrets. "So, what's the plan? Trick a few Purebloods into giving you money? Gain favour with whatever shitheads you've been running around with? Or was it just the attention?" he accused.

James had to take a step back and brace himself against the cold firm trunk of a tree. He had no idea what was going on. He looked around for a moment, as if daring the landscape to prove that everything was some sort of a fever dream. Luna Prince was an imposter?

"The plan, you stupid idiot, was to stay alive," Snape stated in a cold quiet tone, that sounded much more threatening than anything he could possibly have shouted. "You think that there's some grand conspiracy? Our plan was to stay alive. That's what it's always been. Survival," He continued, he locked eyes with Sirius, a manic glint in his dark eyes. "I have been protecting that girl since she was a child. If my mother's name and this stupid cursed school," here he pointed in the direction of the path that led to Hogwarts, "was going to keep her alive for another year than so be it," he finished simply.

Snape's frank answer seemed to throw Sirius momentarily. There was something brutally honest in his words, they almost seemed too grown up for the sixth-year student saying them. There were so many unanswered questions, so many puzzles that dangled over the trio. Yet, it seemed to be a universal consensus that they take a break from the conversation. It was clear that everyone was reeling from what had been revealed.

"So that's it then? You don't have any list of enemies?" James interjected into the tension. Snape barely met his eye before shaking his head once jerkily. "Then I suppose this is worth a shot," he mumbled, pushing off of the tree he had been leaning against until he was standing straight. Sirius looked at his friend in shock. "Where to first?"

Snape seemed to grasp firmly at the change in conversation.

"Well she's clever, more so than you'd think at her age. Her warding is phenomenal, it's a nightmare trying to find her when she doesn't want to be," Snape confided, practically. James noted that this didn't seem like the first time that the Slytherin had been on a hunt for the Prince girl. He shook his head, he had to stop referring to her like that, she wasn't a Prince. Belatedly he begun to question what her real name was, whether she was a muggleborn or a half-blood, if she was anyway connected to the Snapes. He shook his head; he could work all of that out later.

"So, the plan is…?" James asked as calmly as he could muster, in an attempt to ensure another fight didn't ensue.

"There are a few places I know she's partial to. I figured we could go there together, and if she was around maybe she'd let herself be seen," Snape answered simply.

James saw from Snape's expression that he knew it was a long shot. He didn't feel the need to point it out any further so he kept his mouth firmly shut. He didn't know why he was helping the Slytherin. He could maybe tell himself that it would ease Lily's conscience if the girl was brought home safe, but deep down he knew there was something more to it. Maybe it was how irrevocably Snape seemed to have changed or maybe it was how kind the girl had been to him when he had visited her in the hospital wing all those nights ago. All he knew was that something was calling for him to do this, to try.

"Lead the way," James simply stated, stretching out his arm decidedly in front of him. Without hesitation Snape reached out and clutched his forearm firmly so that they were both gripping each other. It was such an odd feeling to be connected to his enemy in such a dependant way. Side-along apparition was based on trust and it felt unsettling to have to open himself up to that. Before they could move however Sirius had gripped the top of both of their wrists tightly.

Snape didn't comment on the development, probably having expected the stubborn move from Sirius.

"Wands out when we get there, prepare for anything," Snape stated firmly. Sirius and James passed a look between each other, not for the first time feeling that Severus Snape was acting like more a Professor than a student of their year group.

…

Frank Longbottom stared at the horrible file in front of him, feeling unbelievably ill. Though he hadn't eaten properly in days he was sure he could easily bend over and empty his stomach on the hard-wooden floors of Alastor Moody's office He didn't even more to close the file, he was too transfixed by the terrible motionless photos.

"Where did you find this?" Frank demanded. His voice sounding too distant, too detached to be his own. He didn't look up, not wanting to see the grim expression that covered his mentors face.

"Detective Barrows had a partner. The one he mentioned disappearing all of a sudden. I paid a visit to his house and found this hidden in a safe behind a family photo," Moody explained succinctly. "The strange thing is, that besides the photos on the walls, everything else in the house was gone. Now I mean everything, from furniture to basic muggle appliances," he continued gruffly.

"Sounds like some Pureblood that didn't know what he was doing," Frank commented, more relieved than he would like to admit when Moody reached over and closed the file firmly. He had experienced clean up jobs like this before, purebloods who have no idea what any of the muggle devices did vanishing everything to keep themselves from leaving any evidence they didn't understand.

"Exactly," Moody replied with a shake of his head. A silence fell between the pair in which Frank's eyes trailed back to the closed file on the desk. He had not flicked through it's thick pages, not able to get past the first one.

"How many?" He asked before he could help himself.

"Do you want to count just muggleborns, or their siblings, parents, neighbours?" Moody asked acidically. "You should have come to me earlier with this Frank," he stated, not quite able to dismiss his protégés betrayal.

"I had no evidence; you would have laughed me out of it. Or worse, handed over my suspicions to someone else on this _team_ ," Frank quipped back in irritation, tired of rehashing the same argument over and over again. He used the word 'team' as a weapon, watching as Moody's gaze turned towards the blinds that were charmed so that he could watch over his department, though they couldn't see in. People rushed back and forth in front of the window, all too busy with the increased crime rates to bother sending a look into the office.

"You don't know that," Moody commented, needing to have the last word. Frank didn't reply, not wanting to perpetuate the ridiculous conversation. He had been away from Hogwarts for longer than he probably should have been, but he felt no desire to go back.

"How's it going?" Moody questioned, perhaps reading Frank's expression or noting his short temper. The young Auror didn't reply immediately, thrown by Moody's inquiry in the first place. There weren't very many pleasantries exchanged between the pair usually.

"It's fine," Frank answered shortly. He watched as Moody reached into his desk drawer before withdrawing a copy of the Daily Prophet and throwing it casually onto the desk beside the ominous closed file. Luna Prince's face stared back at him, obviously an image captured from someone's memory. She seemed distracted, her eyes staring at nothing at all, seeing right though him. Her face was as expressionless as always and her skin was pale, just begging for someone to ask her if she was okay.

"Have you been reading this?" Moody asked carefully.

"Of course," Frank responded. It was his job to keep up to date with current events.

Moody shook his head. "Well stop it," he commanded simply.

"Excuse me?" Frank demanded.

"It's a load of tripe Longbottom, I don't want you filling your head with ideas," he explained candidly. Another pregnant pause filled the room in which Frank tried to scramble to find the indignation that he should be feeling. He didn't need babysitting; he wasn't some emotional child. Yet, when he stared at the article that held all of the anonymous students' accounts of how cruel he had been to her, something twisted in his chest.

No one knew who Frank had been a mere month ago. Granted, maybe, some people knew the history of the Longbottom family, but he was as anonymous as those students back then. Now no household in the country didn't know who he was. His name would be forever tied to Luna Prince's disappearance. What was worse, he was beginning to believe that he deserved it. He had bullied and cajoled an ailing teenage girl for months on end. The wizarding world was not willing to let go of their Pureblood Princess martyr, and why should they?

"Do you think she knew she was that sick?" Frank asked seemingly from nowhere, even to himself. Moody met his eye levelly.

"I reckon there was very little that girl didn't know about her situation. She seemed remarkably self-aware whenever we spoke," Moody answered. Frank, quite shockingly, picked up a little admiration in his tone. It seemed that the aging Auror had spotted something he liked in the girl.

"Do you think she's alive?" Frank asked, not able to contain his curiosity. He knew that Moody hated pointless speculation.

As if Frank had timed it perfectly a ringing came from the side of the room. He turned, trying to find where the sound was coming from.

Moody jumped up, a flicker of shock gracing his marred features.

"She's out in the open, trackable" was all he said before he stalked across the room. Frank watched as he walked away, knowing that the charm that Moody had cast on the girl was an old monitoring charm. It alerted when basic charms such as ' _Point Me_ 's were operating again. He couldn't help the shiver of anticipation that travelled up his spine. Either Luna Prince had been found, or finally the wards on her body had faded and they were going to locate her final resting place.

…..

"Where are we?" Sirius demanded as they appeared in what seemed like another forest, much similar to the one they had just departed from. He wasn't above suspecting Snape of leading them into a trap. Yet, the way the Slytherin was looking around, his expression filled with barely disguised worry made him second guess himself. Severus Snape rarely looked anything but overtly hostile.

"The Forrest of Dean," Snape replied simply, waving a hand that they should follow behind him. "If you feel any urge not to go in a particular direction, let me know. It might be her wards in place," he requested.

"Hermione," he called out abruptly, making the two other boys jump slightly.

"Hermione?" Sirius asked in disbelief, before it began to dawn on him. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me? Her names not even Luna?" He badgered incredulously.

"Just shut up and keep your eyes peeled," Snape responded shortly, wandering over towards a small lake that must have held some significance to him.

They spent the next few hours wandering aimlessly through thick forestry, keeping distance between themselves. Perhaps admitting that each of them were prone to start an argument with the slightest of provocation.

"Hermione," Sirius found himself calling out the unusual name. Feeling that doing something while he walked might elevate how silly he felt. His head was spinning, from the moment Lily had woken him up that morning he had known that it was not going to be a pleasant Saturday. He had been working hard to put all thoughts of Luna Prince out of his head since she had disappeared into thin air. He was finding it exceedingly difficult however, with the near constant reminders. Whether it was the newspapers, a whispered conversation or simply his mind betraying him and drifting, she was everywhere. Inescapable.

No one had ever been inescapable to Sirius, he had turned his back on his family without a second glance. Yet, in a few short months some need had developed inside of himself without his consent. A need to know her, to work out every single secret she had until there was nothing left but _her_.

"Sirius," A voice spoke from behind him. He had been so consumed with his own thoughts that he hadn't heard his friend approach. "Snape's about ready to move onto the next spot?" James asked more than stated.

Sirius submerged his thoughts for another day. "Another few acres of forestry to cover?" He questioned sarcastically.

"Not this time," Snape answered for himself, approaching from behind James. Before either of them could react, he had flicked his wand over their attire until they looked completely muggle.

"Don't do that," Sirius hissed, not liking at all how liberal Snape was being with his wand. The boy just rolled his eyes, obviously having no time for his complaints. With a flourish he transfigured his own clothes fluently to match theirs.

"This next place is not somewhere you should go running your mouth," Snape declared, his words full of warning. He took James's offered hand firmly.

"Of course not," Sirius replied, just as bitingly, but nevertheless gripped both of their hands firmly.

They arrived in an alley that Sirius didn't recognise with the characteristic 'pop' of apparition. He looked around, determined to find something familiar but he was out of his depth. This was muggle territory, which he had very little experience of. He stepped closer to James, not liking how Snape had the upper hand.

Surprisingly Snape bent down and picked up a colourful discarded wrapping paper which declared that it had at one point contained a confectionary treat that would make you 'taste the rainbow'. With one flick of his wand a large bouquet of equally as colourful flowers filled his hand. Sirius watched as the boy turned his back on the pair, something he would never have done only a few short months ago.

Following close behind they watched as Severus hurried though the muggle neighbourhood. Unlike Lily's home, which Sirius was embarrassed to admit had been his only trip into the real muggle world, the area looked a little more highbrow. White picket fences lined the street and the trees looked well-manicured. At ten o'clock on a Saturday morning, it couldn't have looked more like the dream suburban neighbourhood, children playing in the park across the way and families walking to together down the street. The sun beamed down, warming up the morning pleasantly.

Sirius felt like such an imposter walking the streets with James close in toe. He felt like everyone could see that they weren't supposed to be there, how uncomfortable he was.

To Sirius's surprise he watched as Severus turned into a garden where a woman was gardening with her back to them. He waited a moment, seeming unsure of himself, before he covered his face in an easy smile that Sirius had never seen him wear.

"Mrs Granger?" Snape called, his voice light and devoid of any of it's near constant irritation. Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin at the change. In fact, with his shorter hair and different clothes Snape almost looked like he was just some muggle, without a trouble in the world. Obviously, the boy had had practice disguising himself. It made Sirius wonder if this light-hearted man was the one that Hermione was so fond of, and if so, which version was the truest reflection of the man he knew.

Sirius watched with interest as the woman turned to address her visitor. His breath caught when he took in her appearance. He had seen that face before, had admired that bone structure from afar. Then Snape's call came back to him. 'Granger,' Sirius thought, remembering in an instant that that was the name he had overheard Snape use when talking to Hermione.

'Hermione Granger,' Sirius thought, finally knowing the mysterious girl's full name. It seemed to suit her, obscure yet beautiful. He wondered if this slightly older woman was her sister, but then paused to consider that she had been referred to as 'Mrs' Granger. Surely this woman's similar looks couldn't be mere coincidence.

"Severus," Mrs Granger greeted with a wide smile. "I thought I told you to call me Jean. What are you going on this glorious Saturday morning?" She inquired warmly, standing slowly before dusting the dirt off of her trousers. It was weird to see a woman wearing such masculine clothes in public. Even the muggleborn girls at Hogwarts seemed to prefer to switch to more feminine attire. It suited her though, and was exactly what Sirius thought Hermione would have worn if she hadn't been trapped with the Pureblood persona.

"Just stopping around for a visit," Snape explained before offering her the flowers he had transfigured earlier.

"Oh, you shouldn't have, these are gorgeous," Mrs Granger commented, accepting the flowers with a bright smile.

"You know I'm beginning to think you're making moves on my woman," a man's voice spoke from the front door, which had been open. Sirius turned to examine the latest addition to this bizarre day. He had to do a double when he saw the tall thin man leaning against the doorframe with an amused expression on his face. Those eyes were unmistakeable. "Good to see you Severus," who Sirius assumed was Mr Granger replied.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" James muttered under his breath to his friend. Sirius was glad for the distraction, fearing he was going mad with all the possibilities. However, James's murmur seemed to have attracted the attention of the Grangers, who turned expectantly to the pair.

"Dan, Jean, these are my very good friends, James Potter and Sirius Black," Severus replied. Sirius nearly chocked at the introduction. "James, Sirius, Dan and Jean Granger," he concluded the formal introduction with a flourish of his hands in each of their directions.

"Potter?" Jean picked up on. "The name your sister might be going by?" She continued; an innocent question that made the three wizards freeze tensely.

"The one and only, James and Hermione are really good friends," Snape replied, though there was a fraction less warmth in his voice. A fact that Sirius was sure only people who were familiar with his temper would notice.

"That's nice of you to come all the way out here," Jean replied, directing her comment at Sirius and James. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" She questioned politely.

"I'm afraid this is a flying visit Jean," Severus said, his smile lessoning. A dark shadow passed over Jean's face at his comment.

"I'm sorry Severus, if you had a phone we could get through to you on, we could have saved you the trouble of coming all the way here," Dan interjected, understanding painted on his face. "We've seen no sign of her, and we've kept her picture right by the door, just in case," he added, lifting a picture off the entrance hall table to demonstrate. Something strange about it caught Sirius's eyes.

"May I see that? I've not seen that one in ages," Sirius requested, speaking for the first time, not able to stop himself.

"Of course," Dan replied, offering out the photo. Sirius took it with a small smile, perusing the photo, trying to appear casual. It wasn't the same image that had been flooding the Daily Prophet of late, not that same one with that haunting gaze that seemed to be directed solely at him.

Instead, motionless, stood a girl with bushy free flowing curls. She was dressed in muggle clothes and seemed to be laughing at someone just out of shot. It was clearly a snap shot from a memory rather than a photo. She was heavier, not the too thin girl he was used to seeing and there was something lively in her eyes. It was nothing like the girl he knew. He was about to hand it back when he noticed something peculiar. She was standing somewhere he'd never thought he'd set eyes on again, the drawing room in Grimmauld Place. It was different, dusty with peeling wall paper behind her but he'd recognise that room anywhere. James, peering into the photo from his side, had never been to his family home and had no idea of the significance of the photo.

Sirius shook his head, barely able to tune into the conversation around him.

"You say she lived here when she was very young Severus, is there not some place more recent-," Jean was in the middle of asking but Sirius had reached his limit of mystery for the day.

"I think I'm finished now Snape," he said, he's eyes not leaving the photo.

"We'll head home soon Padfoot," James attempted to reason, his eyes showing how odd he thought Sirius's interruption was.

"No, not with this," Sirius said dismissively. "I want to know everything, and now," he demanded, raising the picture so that Severus might see. It was obvious from his expression that he had entirely forgotten about the background of the photo, probably having never thought that Sirius would lay his eyes on it.

Just when Sirius was about to demand more a humming noise started from inside Severus's pocket.

"Is that a pager Severus? I thought you said you had none," Dan asked dubiously, having picked up on the tension that had flooded between the supposed friends.

"She's back," Severus muttered more to himself than anyone else. In that moment Sirius knew that he'd be able to demand these answers from Hermione Granger herself. Pressure he hadn't even known he had been feeling lifted from his shoulders and he took in a shuddering breath.

Luna Prince, Hermione Granger, he didn't care.

She was alive.

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